


Evernight

by LilRinnieB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, Bonding, Death, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mpreg, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Soulmates, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 318,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilRinnieB/pseuds/LilRinnieB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts and the new strategy in the war against Voldemort is "Fight darkness with darkness." Harry goes through a series of changes that has him questioning everything he thought he ever knew about magic, darkness, destiny ... and a certain snarky Potions professor. [Creature!fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Houseguest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the books or movies. I don't make any money from this, either. Any Elvish I use in this story is based on Tolkien's Elvish and the work of grey-company.org, and also does not belong to me. Anything you recognize in here belongs to J. K. Rowling, but Aiya, Rauko, Julian and the other Mori are mine.
> 
> A/N: I first started this story (my first attempt at Snarry) back in 2007. For various reasons, I've worked on it off and on over the years, but will finally be finishing it up this year (or die trying). I decided to start posting Evernight to AO3 so that the readers who've been following it on my website can easily download it once it's complete. I'll be posting a new chapter every other day or so, editing as I go, until I get caught up to Ch.57, which is the chapter I'm currently writing. I will try very hard to remember to add trigger warnings to chapters that require them, but if you feel I've left out a necessary warning, please let me know.

****  
  
Harry woke to the darkness of his bedroom at Grimmauld Place knowing something was wrong. There had been no nightmares, no visions of torture or murder to disturb his slumber, but he'd startled himself awake all the same as a creaking step sounded in the hall just beyond his door. Reaching for his glasses, he slipped them on and fumbled for his wand under his pillow where he kept it in case of emergency.  
  
     He'd been staying with Sirius and random Order members during the last few weeks before school started, rescued from the Dursleys just in time as Vernon was gearing up to have Harry give the house a nice new coat of paint. Ron and Hermione hadn't been able to come and stay with him, but they'd traded letters back and forth. This was their seventh and final year together at school and that fact alone had kept Harry on edge all summer, unable to stop himself from worrying about what his fate would be after Hogwarts. It seemed a little premature to be worrying about a life beyond Hogwarts when he still had Voldemort to deal with, but Harry refused to let the bleakness of his future keep him from making plans.   
  
     It was his determination to meet every obstacle head-on that had him creeping to his door and pressing his ear to the wood, his body tensed for a fight as he listened to the soft footsteps that grew closer and closer. Something inside him, some deep-down gut instinct, told him that whoever or whatever was lurking around in the hallway was not just Sirius walking off his frustrations or Moody being 'constantly vigilant.'  
  
     "Back to bed, Little Brother," came the sudden and shockingly close command. Harry stumbled back from the door as he realized that the person he was listening for had been standing right on the other side. It was a woman's voice, sweet and lighthearted, but with a velvety undertone that reminded Harry strangely of Snape. Of course, he wasn't used to hearing such a rich, melodic voice when it wasn't hurling insults at him or taking away house points, so he wondered how he'd made the comparison at all.  
  
     Sultry voice or not, Harry wasn't about to be ordered to bed by a stranger, so he stubbornly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. No one was there. Another blink of his eyes did nothing to rectify the baffling situation and he quickly looked left and right, seeing only darkness.   
  
     "Lumos," he whispered, but even bringing a little light into the hallway didn't reveal anybody.  
  
     Not only was he puzzled by the disappearance of his nocturnal visitor, Harry was also afraid that the voice he'd heard had been only in his head and not coming from the other side of the door as he'd thought. Hearing voices had never brought him anything but trouble. He resolved to find Sirius and ask him if any new Order members were currently staying at Grimmauld Place. If the answer was no, he'd let Sirius hear all about the strange voice, but if there was a reasonable explanation then Harry didn't want to upset anyone. He'd just pass the voice off as being the new houseguest and get back to that nice, dreamless sleep he'd been having.  
  
     He kept a tight grip on his wand as he approached the bedroom Sirius currently occupied, doing his best to sidestep the squeakiest of the floorboards. He was halfway to the door when he heard the voice coming from behind him, now with a hint of winter in the tone, only magnifying Harry's initial opinion that this voice had a lot in common with that of his Potions professor, though obviously feminine.   
  
     "He's downstairs, shouting at Severus."   
  
     Harry spun around, his wand trained on a woman half-cloaked in shadows, the beautiful contrast of her pale skin and dark hair reminding Harry of moonlight against the night sky. She was dressed in black leather pants and a black camisole that were practically painted onto her generous curves, and when she tilted her head to the side, studying Harry as intently as he studied her, he could see that her silky black hair fell far below her waist and was tipped in crimson.  
  
     "Who's downstairs?" Harry didn't lower his wand, though he could see that the woman wasn't carrying one herself. That didn't mean she couldn't do wandless magic, though, and he hadn't escaped death so many times only to let his guard down now.  
  
     "Sirius." The woman took a step closer and Harry could see that her eyes were a brilliant shade of purple that glowed in the muted light coming from his wand. She was repeating her words to him slowly, as if he were a child incapable of understanding. "He's downstairs, shouting at Severus. Has been for nearly an hour. Not that Severus isn't doing his share of shouting back." And here, a slow, wicked smile spread across her lips. Harry shivered.  
  
     "I don't hear anything," he said, wondering why he even bothered talking to this very strange and unsettling person when he should just stun first and ask questions later.   
  
     "They've put up silencing charms," she answered with a shrug. The smile returned, just as wicked as before. "Doesn't stop me from hearing, though. Silly wizards."  
  
     Now Harry was really panicking. Keeping his wand as the barrier between them, he quickly edged around the woman until his back was to the stairs. "Just who are you, anyway?" She sounded crazier than Bellatrix, and that was saying something.  
  
     "All in good time, Little Brother," she watched him with mirth dancing in her lavender eyes.  
  
     "Why do you keep calling me that?" Harry lowered his wand an inch or so, suddenly reminded of Dumbledore instead of Snape in the way the woman's eyes twinkled and the knowing smile that curved her lips.   
  
     Out of nowhere there was the sound of voices in the room below them and Harry decided he'd get his answers from Sirius instead. He bolted down the stairs, not caring that he was clad only in his pajama bottoms. He'd worry about his modesty later.   
  
     "Bite me again, Black, and I'll make you wish you were back in Azkaban," he heard Snape snarl, pleased to note that his observations were correct and whatever hint of winter was in the strange woman's voice existed tenfold in that of his unpleasant professor.  
  
     "The taste you left in my mouth was punishment enough, Snivellus," Sirius retorted, and Harry decided he'd better make his entrance quick or the silencing charms would go up again and he'd have to wait out another battle to get a word in with his godfather. He walked into the kitchen where the two men and Dumbledore were congregated, taking in the tense scene with far less panic and agitation in his bright green eyes. The familiarity of the bickering going on in the room had settled Harry's nerves somewhat, and he even managed a cheeky grin at his godfather.  
  
     "Letting your inner beast out again, Sirius?" It was common knowledge that confining himself to his animagus form during his imprisonment at Azkaban had left Sirius with more than a few quirks, not the least of which was his recent tendency to 'go wild' during an especially heated argument and transform into Padfoot.  
  
     "Ah, Harry," Albus Dumbledore greeted his student with a fond smile and the usual twinkle in his eyes. "What brings you down here at such a late hour?"  
  
     "Nightmares?" Sirius leapt to the most likely conclusion, his anger dissipating into worry for his godson.  
  
     "Weak silencing charms?" Snape followed up nastily, earning a glare from Sirius who was obviously the perpetrator of said charms.  
  
     Harry remembered with a jolt just why he'd come down and quickly stepped away from the open doorway leading into the kitchen, choosing an empty seat at the dining table across from Dumbledore. He felt better sitting down where he could see every doorway in case the woman had followed him down.  
  
     "Is there a new member of the Order staying here?" he asked casually, placing his wand on the table now that he didn't feel threatened.  
  
     "How would that be any business of yours, Potter?" Snape narrowed his eyes at the half-dressed youth, though Harry could have sworn he felt that piercing gaze wander a bit before it was boring into his own defiant green gaze with an intensity that felt a step away from legilimency.   
  
     "It's my business when there's some crazy woman lurking around outside my room," Harry snapped, more riled up by Snape's penetrating gaze than the memory of his interaction with the dark-haired stranger. In his sixth year he'd finally admitted to himself, as well as his two best friends, that he preferred men to women, but not until this summer had he even dared to believe that his animosity towards Snape was anything but well-deserved enmity for a man who'd made his school life as miserable as possible. Being on the receiving end of the man's inky black stare at this moment made him think there was something more to their volatile relationship, at least on Harry's side of things.  
  
     "I prefer eccentric to crazy." The disembodied voice at the door startled Harry into breaking from Snape's hypnotic gaze and he turned to watch as the mysterious woman's figure was revealed from the shadows.  
  
     "Stalking your prey, Aiya?" Snape drawled, looking bored now.  
  
     "Nothing so blatant, Severus," she replied, and this time the smile she presented to Harry was all warmth, full of the same lighthearted sweetness he'd heard in her voice the first time she spoke.  
  
     "Harry, let me present Aiyana Graham. She will be teaching at Hogwarts this year." Dumbledore waved his wand and a chair pulled out for Aiya.   
  
     "If our previous discussion is concluded, I will take my leave." Snape stood up as soon as Aiya had sat down, nodding his farewells before turning with a flurry of dark robes and exiting the kitchen.  
  
     "Doesn't like you very much, does he?" Sirius murmured in Aiya's ear and she giggled, making Harry take a longer look at the woman who'd seemed a lot more sinister in the shadows of the upstairs hallway. She appeared to be only a few years older than Harry himself, perhaps twenty or so.   
  
     "I should be going as well," Dumbledore stood with a smile, and to Harry's surprise he patted Aiya on the head as one would a small child. "I will see you two at school," he said to both Harry and Aiya, then turned to Sirius with a twist of his head, "and I trust you will take the necessary steps in seeing that Harry is well prepared for his last year at Hogwarts?"  
  
     Sirius slumped into a chair next to Harry and aquiesced with a weary nod and a sigh. "Of course. Remus is coming to take Harry to Diagon Alley to get his books, but other than that I have things well in hand."  
  
     Another twinkle in those clear blue eyes and Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good. Then I will bid you all good night. Sirius, Harry, Miss Graham," he inclined his head to each then was gone.  
  
     "You tend to clear a room, Aiya," Sirius said as he waved his wand to refill his coffee mug.   
  
     "My irresistable charm is to blame, I'm sure," she replied drily before settling her sights on Harry. "I told you 'all in good time,' Harry. Patience isn't one of your virtues, is it." It was a statement, not a question, but it didn't irritate Harry the way it might have if someone else had said it.  
  
     "I don't like being kept in the dark," he replied with a shrug.   
  
     That comment seemed to amuse Aiya and she chuckled. "Don't you? Oh well, I'm sure I can teach you to like it, if even just a little, in the future."  
  
     Harry stared at her in confusion. Sirius laughed and clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder, "Aiya's a morwen and as such she lives and breathes darkness. So naturally she likes being kept in the dark, literally if not figuratively."

     A morwen? He'd never heard of them before. No doubt Hermione would know something. He wasn't counting on Aiya being very forthcoming with information since her answers to his previous questions had been vague at best, but she showed an uncanny ability to read his thoughts as she addressed his unspoken inquiry.  
  
     "Page 73 of Culpepper's Catalogue of Extinct Magical Creatures," Aiya rattled off a surprisingly concise answer that brought only more questions to Harry's mind, such as how the blazes Aiya could be a morwen if they were extinct. "It will tell you all about the Mori - a morwen is the female of the species - and manages not to be too prejudiced against us. Most of the other texts are full of half-truths or outright lies."  
  
     "Couldn't you just tell me all about the … the Mori," Harry said, not pleased at being given homework before school even started. "I mean, since you are one and all."  
  
     "Cheeky little brat, aren't you?" Aiya said, appearing positively delighted at the revelation.  
  
     "Takes after his father," Sirius chimed in.  
  
     "And his godfather," Harry added, dodging Sirius's playful smack.  
  
     Aiya grinned and pulled a thin deck of cards from her pocket, though Harry didn't see how it was possible seeing how tight her jeans were. For the first time he realized Aiya dressed very much like a muggle, and he wondered if she had any wizarding blood in her at all or if she was just a magical creature in human disguise.  
  
     "Yes, Sirius," Aiya was saying, shuffling the cards at the same time, "you certainly are partly to blame for how Harry turned out. I'm sure James would be proud."  
  
     "Did you know my dad?" Harry watched as Aiya masterfully shuffled the cards, wondering if she meant for them all to play a game or if she just needed to keep her hands busy.   
  
     "I was a student at Hogwarts at the same time as Sirius and your dad," Aiya said, suddenly slapping the deck down in front of Sirius who rolled his eyes and cut it twice before handing it back to Aiya. "And Remus and Lily and Severus and -" but she cut herself off, the cheerful glimmer in her lavender eyes hardening for a moment, but in the next instant she was smiling again. "Only for a couple of years, though. I was … shall we say, a problem child?"  
  
     "A hellion is more accurate," Sirius muttered.  
  
     "Wow, did you get expelled?" Harry had been faced with expulsion himself before, but he hadn't heard of many cases where it actually happened, except for that time with Hagrid.   
  
     "No, it was voluntary," Aiya said, sticking her tongue out at Sirius who looked as if he wanted to argue the point. She spread out the cards on the table in front of her in one long, fanning chain, and Harry realized the cards all had a strange symbol emblazoned on their backs that looked hand-painted, a dark reddish-brown against a white background. "The environment didn't suit me as well as my family thought it would."  
  
     Well, at least Harry knew Aiya had some wizarding blood in her. He couldn't believe Aiya was old enough to be his mom; she barely looked twenty-one. "What was your House?"  
  
     Aiya chuckled. "Slytherin, of course. I was much too deceptive and sneaky for anywhere else. My mum about died when she heard; she'd been a Gryffindor."  
  
     "The sweetest, most innocent-looking Slytherin in the history of Hogwarts." Sirius sipped at his coffee, a big grin breaking out on his face in rememberance. "Though you had a habit of lurking in the shadows and scaring first years out of their wits."  
  
     "I didn't mean to scare anybody," Aiya scowled at her old schoolmate, then an entirely wicked smile curved her lips and Harry was reminded of why he'd been so intimidated by the woman when he'd first met her upstairs. The effect of the smile was somewhat lessened in the light of the kitchen, but it still sent a shiver through Harry. "Except that little trick I played right before leaving. That one I meant with all my heart."  
  
     Sirius raised a brow. "Which is why all of us are terrified of you at times." But he didn't say anything more on the subject, leaving Harry wondering just what Aiya had done to terrorize Hogwarts before making her exit. He didn't get a chance to ask, that line of conversation coming to a halt as Aiya plucked a card from those laid out in front of her, brandishing it in front of Sirius like a weapon.   
  
     "I'm harmless," she cooed as Sirius snatched the card from her hand, looking at it with wide eyes before tossing it back at her.   
  
     "Yeah, and Snape is my best friend," he said with a smirk. Harry caught a glimpse of the card before Aiya had tucked it away again, intrigued to see a picture of an animal on the card instead of suits and numbers. He could've sworn the animal on that particular card was a big, black dog.  
  
     "He could be," Aiya turned serious, and the somber expression seemed to show itself most in the way her laughing lavender eyes cooled into twin pools of dark indigo. "You two have been at war with each for long enough. I think a truce is in order, if not an alliance."  
  
     Harry leaned back in his chair and listened with interest. It wasn't the first time someone had told Sirius to bury the hatchet where Snape as concerned, but this time his godfather was actually listening to what was being said and not just growling out how he hated Snape and how he was having enough trouble just tolerating him to even contemplate befriending him.  
  
     Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "Will you read for me, Aiya?" he finally said, wearily, as if the late hour had just now caught up with him.  
  
     She smiled sadly and drew three cards from the long line spread before her, keeping them face down at first. "You might not like what I tell you. Severus didn't."  
  
     "My best friend is dead and my godson is being hunted by the same madman who killed his father," Sirius said with sigh. "I'm no stranger to bad news."  
  
     Aiya glanced at Harry, as if judging whether it was wise to continue with Harry watching, but soon enough she smiled and nodded and turned the three cards over one at a time, slowly drinking in the sight of each one with her peculiar but beautiful eyes. The silence that settled over the kitchen became oppressive to Harry and he fidgeted in his seat, not understanding the significance of the cards except that each showed a different animal, expertly drawn in black ink upon the white cards.  
  
     "I don't have to tell you what the raven signifies," Aiya finally said, speaking only to Sirius though she did not bother to lower her voice or in any other way exclude Harry from the conversation. "It is his fate to always be trapped between two worlds and there is little you can do to change that. You yourself are torn at times, the beast inside pulling one way while the man wishes to go the opposite, so you can understand the raven - and in understanding his struggle, you can ease it by not forcing yet another choice upon him that would tear him in two."  
  
     Sirius grew very pale, but then he nodded sharply in acknowledgement of her words and gestured for her to go on.  
  
     "Scorpion … hmmm, well at any other time I would say the spirits are telling you to get laid," she joked, raising her eyebrows at Sirius and earning a snicker from Harry. "Though scorpion's passion comes with an element of danger … you never know when you might get stung." She narrowed her eyes, concentrating harder on the center card, cocking her head to the side every now and then, as if listening to some far-away voice. "No, as much as you obviously need a release, I think scorpion has come to tell you that you are wasting energy. Save your attacks for the time when you need to protect something - yourself or those you love - and stop wasting your strength on meaningless skirmishes. Scorpion's sting is a defensive attack. Don't be the aggressor, it will only lead to harm for yourself or for someone you love."  
  
     "I think I prefer the idea of getting laid." Sirius rested his elbows on the table and steepled his hands under his chin, calmer now with the color returning to his face.   
  
     Aiya rolled her eyes. "Men." She concentrated on the final card, a softer smile gracing her lips. "You're in luck, Siri. The crane means you're going to finally have some peace in the future. And not the 'rest in peace' kind of peace. The spirits are practically buzzing in my ear over how happy you're going to be. Not without some trials, of course, which is where raven and scorpion come in, but it'll be well worth it, believe me."  
  
     Harry beamed at his godfather, not sure he believed in what Aiya was doing but pleased to hear her giving Sirius some hope for the future. Good news, even if it came in the form of Aiya's animal cards, was still good news, and if it put Sirius in a better mood then Aiya's reading was a godsend.  
  
     Sirius had a goofy smile on his face, the weariness falling away from his expression, and with almost childlike exuberance he flipped the cards over and pushed them back towards Aiya. "Okay, now read for Harry."  
  
     Aiya laughed and gathered her cards up. "No, no … two readings in one night is all I can do without a darker room than this and a bottle of vodka."  
  
     "It's okay," Harry said, feeling a little relieved since he didn't want to hear all about how Voldemort was going to kill him or anything like that. He'd had his death predicted enough by Trelawney to last him his supposedly short lifetime. "I'm not much for predictions and spirits anyway."  
  
     "Oh, I'll be reading for you soon," Aiya promised darkly, that frighteningly devious smile back on her lips. "Though in time I think you could contact the spirits just as well as I can. Better, even. Once you've been tur - "  
  
     "Off to bed, then," Sirius interrupted Aiya, shooting her a glare before he all but shoved Harry out of his seat and towards the kitchen doorway, pausing only to snatch Harry's wand off the table and hand it to him. "Remus is coming tomorrow and you'll want to make an early start of it, I'm sure."  
  
     Harry grinned. Sirius was not the most subtle of guardians, but at least Harry always knew where he stood with the man. "Alright, alright, I'm going. No need to push." He was more than happy to leave off the mystery of Aiya for now and go back to his first restful sleep in months. "Good night, Sirius. 'Night, Aiya."  
  
     "Pleasant dreams," Aiya said, that knowing twinkle back in her eyes, but this time Harry did not see it and he continued on up the stairs to his bedroom without another thought to the new houseguest.

 

 


	2. Research

 

     Harry wandered around the bookshop, perusing the titles and trying hard to look like he didn't really care if he found Culpepper's Catalogue of Extinct Magical Creatures or not. He'd owled Hermione to ask if she already had the book and was surprised when she owled back that she didn't, so it was up to him to find it if he wanted to learn more about the Mori before he went back to Hogwarts. Something told him he would want to know all he could about the creatures, and the sooner the better.  
  
     "There you are, Harry," Remus said as he came up behind him, clutching a few packages to his chest. "I've been waiting outside for almost half an hour."  
  
     "I'm still looking for a book and the shop's so busy right now that I'm stuck searching for it on my own."   
  
     "Let me help you look," Remus shifted the weight of the packages in his arms, his calm smile a vivid contrast to Harry's frustrated scowl. "What's the title?"  
  
     "Culpepper's Catalogue of - "  
  
     " - Extinct Magical Creatures?" Remus pulled the book off of the shelf just below where Harry had last been looking.  
  
     "Of course you'd find it right away," Harry muttered, still scowling, but Remus's laugh was infectious, and soon Harry was grinning, too. The much sought-after book was placed in his hands, a rather thin book that Harry might have easily overlooked anyway, so he was grateful for Remus's sharp eyesight.  
  
     "That isn't for one of your classes," Remus said as they walked to the front of the shop to pay for the book. "It isn't Hermione's birthday, is it?"  
  
     "What? I can't just buy a book for the fun of it?" Harry knew his protests were weak as soon as he'd made them. "And you know as well as I do that Hermione's birthday isn't until September."  
  
     Remus chuckled and didn't say anything more about it, waiting patiently as Harry paid for his book, and then the two were off to get a bite to eat before returning to Grimmauld Place. They walked in comfortable silence to the Leaky Cauldron, each of them placing their order before sitting down, their packages shrunk and piled on the floor beside them. It wasn't until Harry was halfway through his sandwich that he brought up the topic that was weighing on his mind.  
  
     "Did you know about the new teacher at Hogwarts?" Harry wasn't sure if Remus was in on everything since he hadn't been at the impromptu meeting the night before. Still, Remus was an integral part of the Order, so it only made sense that he knew about Aiya.  
  
     "Hmm .. the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, you mean?" Remus looked far more interested in his steak than the conversation, but Harry was undeterred. At least now he knew what subject Aiya was going to be teaching.  
  
     "I met her last night." He sipped at his butterbeer, letting his green gaze roam over the assorted patrons of the pub, assessing his surroundings with a much sharper gaze than in previous years, his training making him more alert to his surroundings and certainly more wary during the few times he was in a public place like this. "She says she went to school with you."  
  
     Remus raised a brow. "Did she? I'm not sure … what was her name again?"  
  
     "Aiyana Graham," Harry said, focusing his gaze back on Remus. He found it strange that Remus knew there was a new teacher but hadn't remembered she was an old schoolmate of his. Aiya had said she only went to Hogwarts for a couple of years, so maybe she hadn't made much of an impression on Remus. There was also the fact that she was a Slytherin, and typically Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't socialize together, unless it was to trade insults.  
  
     Remus sat up a little straighter, his easygoing demeanor slipping for a moment. "Aiyana? Hmm … I knew an Aiyana, but her last name wasn't Graham. Well, I didn't know her very well, but … no, it can't be the same person."  
  
     "Well, she said she was in Slytherin and that she didn't stay in school for long." Whatever reaction Harry had been expecting, it wasn't to see his adopted 'uncle' looking so tense. "Snape wouldn't even stay in the same room with her but she got along pretty well with Sirius." Harry turned thoughtful, mulling over something that had been troubling him. "That's one thing I couldn't understand. Why would Sirius be so nice to someone from Slytherin?" Harry himself had never bothered to 'make friends' with any of the Slytherins at Hogwarts and probably never would, and Sirius seemed even less likely to do so.   
  
     "Just because a person is sorted into Slytherin doesn't make him or her a bad person," Remus lectured him, but his voice lacked the firmness it usually held when he admonished Harry. In fact, the response was so automatic and toneless that Harry wondered if Remus was even aware of saying it. The older man sat back in his chair, shaking his head slowly and muttering to himself, "No, it can't be her … not Aiya … it _can't_ be …"  
  
     "She's staying at Grimmauld Place, or at least she was last night." Harry found it hard to believe Remus was so unaware of what was going on. Maybe Aiya wasn't a part of the Order after all? But then why was she at the Order's base? It didn't seem likely that Dumbledore would endanger the Order by letting any outsiders - even a future colleague - have access to the base of operations like that. "Right scary, that one. One minute she's acting like a kid, real sweet, and the next she's smiling this … well, it's not a _happy_ look, exactly, more like a look that tells you she has you right where she wants you."  
  
     Remus grew pale, but Harry was too caught up in describing all the odd things about his soon-to-be professor that he didn't notice.   
  
     "And she had these cards with her, fortune-telling cards I guess." He picked at the remainder of his sandwich, not looking at Remus anymore as he recalled how Sirius had clung to every word the woman had said. "I thought maybe she was going to teach Divination but I hadn't heard of anything happening to Trelawney - hey, Remus, what's wrong?"  
  
     Remus had gone from stricken to angry during the short time that Harry had been talking about Aiya, and now he was standing up, throwing some galleons on the table to pay for the lunch. "Come on," he rasped, sounding very wolfish, "I think it's time to take you home."  
  
     Harry barely had enough time to gather up his packages before he was running after him. Remus typically walked with such a relaxed, unhurried gait, but the man Harry was chasing after now looked as if Voldemort himself was on his tail, and Harry couldn't understand why Remus was acting this way.   
  
_Aiya strikes again_? he wondered to himself, securing the packages in his arms as he called out to Remus to wait up.

 

  
* * * * *

  
  
     "Albus cannot seriously be allowing a morwen to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts," Remus snarled at Sirius as he paced the floor of the drawing room he'd dragged Sirius into after arriving home with Harry. "If I was considered too much of a threat to teach, Merlin only knows what sort of reaction the parents would have to Aiya."  
  
     Sirius sighed, pouring himself a shot of firewhiskey. He was the one always flying off the handle, not Remus, and he wasn't used to having to calm his friend down like this. He really wished Dumbledore was here to answer all the questions. Sirius hadn't even known Aiya was still alive until the night before when she'd appeared on his doorstep beside Dumbledore and Snape, bringing with her the same unpredictable personality she'd exhibited during her school days.   
  
     "Not many people ever found out the truth about her during school, and those who did won't recognize the name 'Graham' if their children happen to mention her to them. She's different now, she's got more control of herself, and if Dumbledore thinks it's safe then that's enough for me."  
  
     "But to make her a teacher?" Remus looked unconvinced by the overused 'Dumbledore-says-it's-okay-so-let's-follow-blindly' excuse.  
  
     "I think the teaching position is for show," Sirius said. He wasn't privy to all of Dumbledore's machinations, but this much he had figured out on his own. "They need a reason for Aiya to be at Hogwarts, and while she looks damn good for her age, she still looks too old to be a student. She's smart enough to teach, though, and who better to teach about the dark side of magic than someone like her?"  
  
     "That's the worst logic I've ever - " Remus paused in his raving to glare at Sirius suspiciously. "Why do they need her at Hogwarts?" Sirius shifted guiltily on his feet. Remus closed the distance between them and watched as Sirius downed the whiskey in one gulp. "Does this have something to do with Harry? I know her kind can be used as shields against dark magic but - " another pause and all the anger drained from Remus's face, replaced with horror. "You aren't thinking of letting her _turn_ him?"  
  
     Sirius didn't answer, turning his back on his friend to pour himself some more whiskey. Remus grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around. "Answer me, Sirius!"  
  
     "Yes, alright?" Sirius jerked his shoulder free of the tight grasp, a little of the whiskey sloshing out of the glass at his abrupt movement. "Dumbledore wants it done before he starts school."  
  
     "Does Harry know?" Remus knew as soon as he asked the question that it was a stupid one. Of course Harry didn't know. The poor boy was never told anything. "Forget I asked that. So when are you going to tell him? Or were you going to just let her slip some blood into his pumpkin juice at breakfast and let nature take its course?"  
  
     "Damn it, Remus, it doesn't work that way and you know it." Sirius was having enough trouble reconciling himself to what had to be done; he didn't need Remus pairing up with his guilty conscience to make him even more miserable. "This isn't some werewolf biting someone, infecting him and then leaving him to face the consequences alone. What happened to you isn't going to happen to Harry. The worst that'll happen is he'll get a little moodier during the day. Start wearing more black, or something. He'll still be Harry, but better protected."  
  
     "Until he gets hunted down by some upstart auror looking to make a name for himself," Remus wasn't going to let Sirius downplay the gravity of the situation. There was a reason the Mori were thought to be extinct.   
  
     "Aiya's managed to stay alive over the years. Don't you see, Remus? She can give him a protection that we can't." Sirius sank down on the dilapidated couch, burying his head in his hands. His voice, when he spoke, was muffled and scratchy with unshed tears. "I can't lose him, Remus, I just can't. He's all I have left."  
  
     Remus sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. He hadn't realized the strain that Sirius was under worrying about whether the next attempt on Harry's life would be the one to succeed. Sure, it was hard on him, it was hard on everybody, but he hadn't known just how close to breaking down his friend had been. "You have me, too. And I want to protect Harry as much as you do. If you think Aiya can help him then I support your decision, but you've got to tell Harry as soon as possible. This is his decision, too. He's seventeen now. We can't keep making changes in his life without giving him a say in the matter."  
  
     Sirius nodded, not looking forward to that conversation but knowing it would need to come soon.

 

  
* * * * *

  
  
     "The Mori are a race of magical creatures closely related to elves. Human in appearance, the Mori were known to live within wizarding and Muggle communities alike, their ability to adapt to human society giving them an edge over other magical creatures. The word _mori_ comes from the Elvish tongue and means, literally, 'darkness.' The Mori absorb dark magic and so are immune to most hexes and curses. In ancient wizarding times, the Mori were used as living shields to protect their masters from enemy attacks, but this practice soon ended when the Mori rebelled against their masters and turned against the wizarding world. Because they are creatures of darkness with unfortunate ties to dark magic, many in the wizarding world deemed them too dangerous to exist, and the resulting massacres greatly reduced their numbers. Many think the Mori to be extinct, but it is this author's opinion that this highly adaptable race has merely hidden itself away in the Muggle world, abandoning wizarding society due to prejudice and genocide."  
  
     Harry chewed at his lower lip, looking away from the book in his lap. If the Mori had rejected the wizarding world, why had Aiya gone to Hogwarts? And why was she risking herself now just to teach at a school where most of the people, if they knew what she was, would think of her as a monster? The book went on to talk about the various skills the Mori possessed, such as being natural-born occlumens, and being able to manipulate shadows. They were also inclined to be clairvoyant and telepathic, which explained why Aiya had 'read' for Sirius. He thought it was pretty terrible that they'd been used as shields - but was it really much different than how he was being used as the savior of the wizarding world? He wondered what it would feel like to absorb the Cruciatus curse, or any curse for that matter. He'd have to ask Aiya about that …  
  
     "Ask me about what?" Aiya stood in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against the frame with a smile on her face.  
  
     "How did you … where did … did you just-" Harry couldn't seem to get a complete sentence out of his mouth, so he finally settled on just glaring at Aiya. [Damn your telepathic abilities,] he thought at her, not fully believing it would work, which made it all the more irritating when she laughed at him.  
  
     "Yeah, Severus used to hate it when I did that to him ... though he's got so many barriers in his mind now that even _I_ can't get through them." She walked into the room and flopped down on the bed beside Harry. She was still dressed casually in blue jeans and a light blue t-shirt that had 'Your Boyfriend Thinks I'm Hot' written across the front in bold black letters. She looked about as far from what Harry thought a professor should look like as possible.  
  
     "Bit of light reading?" she asked teasingly as she glanced pointedly at the book in Harry's lap.  
  
     "Well, you weren't going to tell me anything, so I figured I'd find out on my own."  
  
     "I like a resourceful student. Takes a lot of the burden off of me."  
  
     "In other words, you're lazy." Harry could hardly believe he was talking like this to someone who was going to be his teacher, but it just felt natural to be playful with Aiya.   
  
     "Lazy? Me?" Aiya kicked off her shoes, making herself at home and hogging up most of the bed as she sprawled over it. "It's this blasted sunshine," she complained, laying an arm over her face to shield her eyes from the rays of the afternoon sun that were streaming into the room through Harry's open window. "Makes me sleepy."  
  
     "I thought only vampires hated the sun," Harry said as he turned back to his book.   
  
     "Vampires aren't the only nocturnal creatures in the world, Harry." Aiya lifted her arm slightly, peering at him with her all-too-purple eyes. "I'm stronger at night, so it's only natural that I'm more active during the evening hours than during the day."  
  
     "How are you going to teach, then? Won't it be a little strange for the professor to be the one sleeping through class?" Harry smirked.   
  
     "Is it too early to give detentions?" she faked a scowl at him, only to bolt upright at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "Uh-oh. Someone's coming who won't be happy to see me right now." Without another word, she made a beeline for the only shadowy corner in the room and, much to Harry's astonishment, disappeared. He knew she hadn't apparated because there'd been no cracking sound. Was this part of 'manipulating' shadows?  
  
     "There you are, Harry." Remus stuck his head into the room, looking a little strained but no longer flushed with anger. "I'm stepping out for a while but I'll be back for supper." He looked around the room, sniffing a bit, then fixed his amber gaze on Harry. "Have you seen Miss Graham? I thought I heard a woman's voice."  
  
     Harry smiled and shrugged. "Oh, she stopped by just to say hello. Did you need her for something?"  
  
     Remus studied him a moment in silence then sighed and shook his head. "No, I suppose it can wait. I'll see you at supper."   
  
     "Alright then," Harry responded with a smile, waiting until Remus had gone back downstairs before jumping up from the bed and walking to the shadowy corner where Aiya had disappeared. He stuck his hand in the shadows and waved it about, but nothing was there. Whatever Aiya had done, she'd managed to transport herself entirely out of the room. 

 

 


	3. Never Mess With A Morwen

 

     Harry enjoyed another night of dreamless sleep, waking up the next morning feeling refreshed and energized. After showering, he dressed in a pair of Dudley's castoff jeans that had been magically shrunk to fit Harry's lean, athletic frame and one of the many monogrammed jumpers that Molly Weasley had given to him over the years. His hair was untameable as always but he'd found over time that his hair looked best slightly touseled anyway, and he wore it at a similar length to Sirius's shaggy cut.  
  
     He headed downstairs with his good mood plastered all over his face, calling out a cheery good morning to Kingsley Shacklebolt as he passed him on the way to the kitchen. He was so used to Order members coming in and out of Grimmauld Place that he barely gave it a second thought. _I could get used to this_ , he thought to himself, revelling in the fact that he'd gone another night without visions of Voldemort torturing anybody.   
  
     "Good morning!" he greeted the occupants of the kitchen, his huge grin not faltering one bit, not even when he noticed Snape lurking in a corner talking in a low voice to Aiya. Snape only acknowledged Harry with a cold stare, but Aiya grinned back and waved. Sirius pulled out a chair for Harry and set a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and buttered toast in front of him.  
  
     "How did you know I wanted eggs?" Harry had awakened with a craving for them, and here it was as if Sirius was granting his unspoken wish.  
  
     "Don't look at me. Aiya made them." Sirius set a platter of sausage and bacon on the table as well.  
  
     "How'd you whip these up without a wand?" Harry asked Aiya around a mouthful of eggs. Not once had he seen a wand in Aiya's hand and, being a Hogwarts drop-out, he wasn't sure she even had one.  
  
     "Wizards are so lazy," she replied, earning a glare from every single wizard in the room except for Remus, who only looked slightly amused. "I made them the way hum- err, Muggles make them, and I personally think they taste better that way." She placed her hands over her heart, sighing dramatically. "My eggs are made with love not magic."  
  
     "Well, you burned mine," Sirius grumbled.  
  
     Aiya looked like she was about to protest this attack on her cooking skills when the left pocket of the black hoodie she wore started to ring. Four pairs of eyes turned on her and she smiled sheepishly. "Err … that would be my mobile. Wow, I didn't think it would even get a signal out here." With an apologetic smile she pulled out the mobile phone and flipped it open, walking out of the kitchen as she answered the call with an excited squeal, "Hey! Perfect reception, even with all this magical interference. Can you believe it? You are a genius …"  
  
     Her voice trailed off as she wandered into another part of the house and Harry shook his head, still grinning. "Mobile phones? Cooking without magic? Are you sure she's going to fit in at Hogwarts?"  
  
     "As well as anyone raised in the Muggle world can, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, not abandoning his spot in the corner of the kitchen. He looked about as happy to be at Grimmauld Place as Harry would be at Privet Drive. Whether he intended it or not, his remark struck a nerve in Harry. After all, he'd been thrown headlong into the wizarding world after eleven years of not even knowing it existed. If it hadn't been for Ron and Hermione, Harry was sure the transition would have been much harder than it was.   
  
     "She said her mom was a witch." Harry purposefully turned towards Sirius and Remus, intending to simply ignore Snape, but he couldn't help the stray glances he shot at the brooding man. "And she was at Hogwarts, so why is she so … well, so much like a Muggle?"  
  
     "The Mori do not live in the wizarding world, Harry," Remus said, filling Harry's empty glass with milk that poured from the tip of his wand. "It would be too dangerous for them." The look he sent to Sirius caused the other man to frown and glance away.  
  
     "That's not the only reason," Sirius finally said, avoiding Remus's gaze. "I mean, wasn't Aiya's mother a Muggle-born?"  
  
     "What she _was_ didn't matter once she mated with a Mori," Snape said, and it seemed his tolerance of being trapped in the small kitchen with three Gryffindors had reached its limit, because with a flutter of his robes he was gone.  
  
     "What's he doing here anyway?" Harry's good mood had deflated.  
  
     "He and Aiya have their secrets," Sirius said, not sounding too happy about it. For the first time Harry wondered if Sirius felt anything more than a mild friendship for Aiya. Or it could be that Sirius just hated anything to do with Snape, which seemed more likely.  
  
     "You mean they have their disagreements," Remus corrected, and of the three in the kitchen he appeared the least affected by whatever tensions were building in Grimmauld Place. "They were arguing when I arrived this morning and I'm sure they'll be arguing again when I leave."  
  
     Breakfast was rudely interrupted by a shout of _Impedimenta_ from the upstairs drawing room, and the three of them leapt to their feet and rushed out of the kitchen. Harry's first thought was of Death Eaters, but he knew that was impossible since Grimmauld Place was under Fidelius. He was the last one up the stairs, Sirius gesturing for Harry to stay back as he and Remus edged into the room. The sight that greeted them gave Harry chills. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in the center of the room, clawing desperately at the swirling shadows that covered his face and torso, his wand lying forgotten a few feet away. It looked as if the shadows were choking him, slowly cutting off his oxygen as they wrapped around his mouth and nose, reforming and regrouping every time Kingsley tried to pull them away, his fingers passing harmlessly through the misty entities.  
  
     "Aiya, let him go!" Remus pointed his own wand at the wild-eyed creature Aiya had  become as she crouched in a puddle of darkness so deep that half of her body had submerged itself beyond the floorboards, as if she had decided to flee the confrontation by dropping down into the room below. Harry knew she could move through shadows after seeing her disappear in his bedroom, but this was different. This wasn't just finding a handy shadow and slipping inside - it looked as if Aiya had called this shadow to her, more like a portal than a random hiding place.  
  
     "He started it," she hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits of dark indigo. She was like a cornered beast, beautiful but dangerous, and her tensed posture hid a vulnerability that called to Harry and made him want to comfort her. Her hair was like a silky shadow itself, the way it fell around her body like a black cloak, and for once Harry understood the concept of a creature of pure darkness. Then, as if her own childish words had brought Aiya back from momentary madness, she let herself fall all the way through the shadowy hole in the floor and in the next instant Kingsley was released, the shadows fading into nothing and leaving the auror gasping for breath.  
  
     "Find her," Remus snapped at Sirius, and he nodded and ran out of the room. Harry went to follow but Remus caught ahold of his arm. "No, you go to your room. I don't want you to come out until either Sirius or myself comes and gets you. She's still feral, so if she comes to your room I want you to cast _Lumos Maxima_ until she goes away. Got that?"   
  
     Harry stared in shock at his former professor but he knew better than to argue. With a nod and a quick glance at Kingsley (who was still trying to catch his breath), Harry backed out of the drawing room and ran down the hall to his bedroom. He locked the door and put up as many protective charms as he could to ward the door from unwanted intruders, having learned quite a lot over the years from being 'the-boy-everyone-wants-to-kill.' He still couldn't believe he'd seen Aiya move through wood like it didn't even exist, and the way she'd been strangling Kingsley with shadows still haunted him. This was going to be his teacher? They'd need a whole separate class at Hogwarts now, a 'Defence Against The Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts' class.   
  
_Ron and Hermione aren't going to believe the summer I've had_ , he thought to himself with a sigh as he threw himself down on the bed. It was hard to believe that less than an hour ago he had woken up feeling so good only to find himself barricaded in his room to protect himself from his future professor. He banished every shadow he could from the room, filling it with light until it almost hurt to keep his eyes open.   
  


*     *     *     *     *  


  
     Harry grew restless after the first hour and still no sign of Sirius or Remus. The entire house was eerily quiet, but that could have been a result of a silencing charm. He picked up the book on extinct magical creatures and re-read the section on the Mori. There wasn't a whole lot of information, but what there was seemed to be fair and objective, something that Aiya had warned wasn't the case with other books about the dark creatures. The Aiya he'd seen in the drawing room existed completely at the opposite end of the spectrum of the Aiya who'd joked with him in his bedroom the other day, and Harry sincerely wanted to believe that the creature attacking Kingsley had been attacking in self-defense.  
  
 _Like the scorpion_ , Harry thought, reminded of the reading Aiya did for Sirius. _Scorpion only attacks in self-defense_. But why would Kingsley attack her? For the second time Harry found himself debating whether Aiya was a part of the Order or not. If she was, then Kingsley would have known all about her, right? But if she wasn't part of the Order, why was she staying at Grimmauld Place?   
  
     A scratching at his door brought him out of his ruminations and Harry bolted up from the bed. Was it Sirius as Padfoot, seeking entrance? Or was it Aiya?  
  
     [Open the door, Little Brother.] His question was answered as the command was pressed into his mind gently but firmly, and Harry was half-way to the door before he even understood what he'd heard. He stopped himself just in time, backing away until his legs hit the bed.  
  
     [Open it.] Harry felt a flicker of pain in addition to the repeated command, as if he were being punished for disobedience.   
  
     "Go away, Aiya," he shouted at the door, frantically pawing at the rumpled bedcovers in search of his wand.   
  
     A low, keening cry came from the other side of the door but no further command was issued into his thoughts, for which Harry was extremely grateful. The pull to obey that command had been strong, worse even than Imperio, and he doubted he would have held out much longer. He finally found his wand and, just to be on the safe side, he muttered, " _Lumos Maxima_ ," shielding his eyes from the bright light that erupted from his wand.   
  
     "Save your spells, Potter," came the sound of Snape's voice on the other side of the door. "I have Miss Everni - err, Miss Graham - firmly under control." Harry reluctantly lowered his wand and sat back down on the edge of his bed.   
  
     "She isn't … hurt, is she?" Harry called out. At first there was no answer and Harry wondered if Snape had already walked away, but suddenly the door was unlocked, his wards were dismantled, and Snape was standing large as life in the doorway.  
  
     "Impressive spells, Mr. Potter, but still lacking," was his brusque greeting as Snape stepped into Harry's bedroom without asking permission. Harry tried to take the man's words as a compliment but it was really hard when he made it clear that even Harry's best efforts weren't good enough. "Miss Graham is perfectly fine. Black and Lupin are taking care of her until Albus arrives."  
  
     "What happened to her? Why did she - " it was hard for Harry to put into words what he'd seen.  
  
     "Mr. Shacklebolt caught her in a rather … _unusual_ state and decided that 'stun first, ask questions later' was the appropriate course of action." Snape's disgusted tone of voice conveyed to Harry just how little Snape thought of Kingsley's 'course of action,' and it embarrassed Harry to realize that he'd had exactly the same thought when he first met Aiya. He could see now that it would have been a huge mistake to act on those thoughts, if Aiya's reaction to Kingsley was anything to go by.  
  
     "Doesn't the Order know about her?" Harry scooted back on the bed, crossing his legs indian-style and absently tracing his wand-tip over the bedcovers in circular patterns. He felt a strange urge to keep his hands occupied, as if a great surge of energy was building in his body and he didn't know what to do with it.  
  
     Snape kept a close eye on him, studying him with an intensity that had Harry squirming. He scowled and seemed to come to some conclusion about his fidgeting student, walking further into the room and closing the door behind him before he answered Harry's question. "No, they do not, and Mr. Shacklebolt's memory has been modified to make sure that they remain unaware of her heritage. They have been told she is a teacher and that threats against her led her to seek sanctuary here until the school year begins, but they do not know she is a morwen. Prejudices against her kind run deep. It would not be safe for them to know her true identity."  
  
     Being alone in a room with Snape was bad enough, but this was Harry's bedroom and he was suddenly very, very aware of that fact, as well as the fact that he was on the bed with the covers suggestively mussed, and Snape's inky gaze was pinning him down as effectively as if he'd been using his hands and that tall, lithe body of his. The restless feeling increased and Harry clutched his wand so tightly he was afraid it might break. _Get ahold of yourself, Harry_ , his mind screamed at him. _This is Snape! You hate him and he hates you_!   
  
     "If it's so dangerous then why is she here?" He channeled all that restless energy into the very real frustration he felt at always having to badger people for information. If someone would just tell him everything from the start it would make his life that much easier.  
  
     "Because of you, Mr. Potter," Snape said quietly, his shrewd black gaze still focused on Harry though the scowl had vanished. His expression was almost one of pain as he took a step closer to the bed. "Isn't that why we are all here?"  
  
     Harry stared at his professor, unsettled by the lack of hatred in the man's eyes, not sure how to conduct himself with this masterfully calm Snape, especially when the man's increasing proximity was making Harry's heart beat faster. His skin felt incredibly hot and the air around him pulsed with the echo of the restless energy continuing to accumulate in Harry's body until it was all he could do to keep himself from leaping off the bed and throwing himself into the arms of his once-hated teacher.  
  
     "Pro-professor?" he stammered, wincing at how pathetic and weak he sounded.   
  
     Snape smiled a cruel, knowing smile, but the moment was broken as the door flew open and an agitated Sirius stumbled inside. "Harry, I need you to come with … me … right now …" He had sounded desperate at first, but as he took in the scene of Harry sitting flushed and practically panting on the bed while Snape towered over him, his tone changed to one of suspicion. "What the hell is going on in here?"  
  
     "Sirius! Hurry!"   
  
     Sirius turned at the sound of Remus calling for him, cursing under his breath, and with one last glare at Snape he yanked Harry to his feet and dragged the confused teenager from the room and down the hall to Sirius's own bedroom. He shoved Harry inside and slammed the door shut behind them.  
  
     "Sirius, why did you - " Harry's breath caught in his throat as he felt a wave of absolute terror assault his mind out of nowhere. It was as if a Dementor was sucking on his soul. He fumbled for his wand, realizing too late that he'd left it behind when Sirius had unceremoniously hauled him out of his room. He could hear someone sobbing, some remote corner of his brain recognizing it was _his_ voice, and that it was _his_ tears that were sliding over his cheeks, but none of it made sense and certainly none of it could compete with the paralyzing fear that had a firm grip on his mind. He tried to perform the patronus charm without his wand but his mouth wouldn't open to speak, and he'd never tried to perform it silently. Dimly, he was aware of someone talking in the background.  
  
     "Get him over here. She needs to know that he isn't hurt." And then someone was pulling him further into the room, pushing him down into a chair by a bed and placing his hand atop a smaller, colder hand that instantly curled its grip around his fingers and held on tightly.  
  
     [Little Brother.] With the unspoken words came a feeling of warmth and safety, all fear banished to be replaced by love - Harry felt protected and cared for, and he took a deep breath before opening his eyes.   
  
     Aiya lay on the bed, her pale skin a deathly shade of white, but as Harry watched the color began seeping back into her cheeks. She did not open her eyes but he could feel her presence in his mind, as if her soul was touching his and making sure he was alright.   
  
     "You can't put this off any longer, Sirius. The process has already begun. I don't know how she managed it, but she established a bond with him already."   
  
     "Damn Kingsley. If he hadn't scared her - "  
  
     "But he did and Aiya won't be rational until she knows Harry is fully under her protection."  
  
     There was a knock at the door but Harry didn't turn away from the sight of Aiya. He instinctively knew it would be Dumbledore on the other side of that door, and the realization both relieved and irritated him.   
  
     "You'd better let the Headmaster in," he said in a soft voice, missing the looks of surprise from Remus and his godfather. He paused, suddenly aware of another familiar aura approaching the room. "And Professor Snape."  
  
     Sirius opened the door, letting Dumbledore in, but he growled at Snape and shut the door in his face. A quiet word from Dumbledore forced Sirius to grudgingly open the door and allow Snape into the room, the two of them glaring murderously at each other before Sirius moved to the opposite side of the room, focusing his worried gaze on his godson and the unconscious creature that currently occupied his bed.   
  
     Dumbledore didn't bother with pleasantries, aiming straight at the heart of the matter. "What exactly did Mr. Shacklebolt see?"  
  
     "Apparently Aiya was … feeding." Remus once more took a position of leadership within the group, surprising more than just Harry with how easily he fell into that role. "Any other wizard wouldn't have noticed anything unusual in her behavior but an auror …"  
  
     "Yes, yes," Dumbledore sighed, walking closer to the bed and peering down at the morwen with compassion. "An auror would know the signs. Poor child." He reached down to stroke his hand over Aiya's dark hair but pulled away when Harry hissed and moved to block him.   
  
     Harry looked up at the Headmaster fearfully, stunned by his own actions, but Dumbledore simply smiled at him and held up his hands to show he meant no harm. "I am not going to hurt her, Harry."  
  
     "Am I to assume from that reaction that it is too late to turn back?" Snape asked, and even though Harry was facing away from him he could feel the professor's penetrating gaze boring a hole through his jumper and straight into his soul. Why the devil was the man affecting him like this? Had he been hexed without knowing it?  
  
     "Much too late," Remus snapped, his anger at the situation clearly felt by everyone in the room.  
  
     "An explanation would be nice," Harry said, raising a brow at Sirius who just looked guilty as hell. When his godfather remained silent, Harry turned to Dumbledore, that same expectant expression on his tear-streaked face. "Well?"  
  
     Dumbledore flicked his wand and summoned a chair, seating himself beside Harry. "You know Miss Graham is a morwen, correct?" He waited for Harry's nod of understanding before continuing. "At one point the number of Mori had dwindled drastically, to the extent that they faced extinction. To remedy this, the Mori began to adopt humans into their bloodline and saved themselves from complete eradication. Even today, the Mori take human mates, further strengthening their bloodlines. Aiya is of the Evernight line, the oldest of the Mori bloodlines. An … incident … in her youth ruined any chance of Aiya having children of her own, and so her only way of producing an heir is through adopting one. Some call it 'turning' or 'infecting,'" he spared a kind glance at Remus, "but I prefer to think of it as an adoption and nothing more."  
  
     "So … Aiya wants to adopt me?" Harry didn't understand what the big deal was. He'd been partially adopted by a lot of people in his life - the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus .. even Dumbledore himself, in a way.  
  
     "It isn't that simple," said Remus. "You will become one of them, Harry. You won't be human anymore."  
  
     "I'll be … a Mori?" Harry couldn't blame Remus for being so set against the idea - it sounded just like being bitten by a werewolf or a vampire. The idea of letting Aiya bite him gave Harry the creeps, and his expression must have shown his disgust at the idea.  
  
     "You will still be yourself, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "You will still be the son of James and Lily, godson of Sirius, and you will still be able to do magic as you have always done. The only thing that will change is that you will grow stronger, and your innate abilities will increase. You will be able to protect yourself in ways that even I cannot protect you."  
  
     "Like being able to absorb dark magic."  
  
     "Precisely."   
  
     Harry sighed. On one hand, he could see Dumbledore's logic, but on the other hand he was sick of always being different, and becoming a Mori would certainly set him apart from the rest of the students at Hogwarts.   
  
     "Will anyone else know?"  
  
     "No, only those of us in this room."  
  
     "Can I tell Ron and Hermione?"  
  
     "Yes, but only them. No one else can know, Harry. Not even members of the Order, like Arthur and Molly. Perhaps in the future they can be told, but for now it is imperative that this information is kept secret."  
  
     Aiya stirred beneath the covers, drawing Harry's attention back to her. With a groan, she opened her eyes which were lavender once more and not the dark indigo of what Remus had called her 'feral' state. She looked around at the five faces looming over her and grimaced. "I must have done something pretty bad if even Severus looks concerned."  
  
     Harry quickly glanced over his shoulder at Snape but the man's face was an emotionless mask of control, as always. Maybe Aiya was imagining things?  
  
     "You took on one of the best aurors around and lived to tell about it." Sirius tried to lighten the mood, his voice jovial even if the laughter didn't quite reach his eyes. "And you kept us chasing you for over an hour until Snape caught you outside of Harry's door."  
  
     Aiya smiled at Harry, reaching up to stroke a hand along his cheek. It was a comforting gesture that soothed Harry's troubled mind.  
  
     "I hurt you, Little Brother, and for that I am sorry."   
  
     Harry didn't know what Aiya meant until he remembered the brief pain he'd felt when he'd resisted her command to open the door. He shrugged and gave her a small smile. "It's not like you used Cruciatus on me, Aiya."  
  
     "I doubt that even Cruciatus would affect you the same way it has before, Harry," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. He smiled down at Aiya, the twinkle back in his eyes. "I believe it would be best to give Aiya and Harry some time to talk."  
  
     Remus, of the other three men, looked the most reluctant to leave Harry alone in the room with Aiya, even in her incapacitated state, but at Harry's encouraging smile he followed Sirius and Dumbledore out of the room. Snape was last to leave, his cold black gaze resting first on Aiya, then moving to Harry and lingering there for several heart-stopping seconds before he turned and left, and Harry was able to breathe again. Really, he was going to have to ask Madam Pomfrey for a full exam once he got back to Hogwarts. _Do they even do psychological tests at Hogwarts?_ Harry wondered, and he had the most disturbing vision of Madam Pomfrey showing him inkblots that all resembled Snape in various sexual positions when Aiya's voice broke into his thoughts.  
  
     "I'm going to have to teach you not to project your thoughts so loudly," she said with a weak laugh, smiling fondly at the embarrassed blush that swept Harry's cheeks. "You can't help it, Harry, so don't feel bad. I like it that you can't control your thoughts and emotions … there's something so innocent and adorable about it."  
  
     Adorable? He was seventeen, for Merlin's sake. His glum expression only added to Aiya's amusement and she reached up to ruffle his hair. 

     "Come on, Harry. It's a sister's perogative to tease her younger brother." Her smile grew solemn and her eyes lost their lavender glow, darkening along with her mood. "But only if you want it, Harry. If you don't want to go through with it, I understand."  
  
     Harry sighed. It was hard to make a decision like this on the spot. But did he really have a choice? The way Remus talked, he made it sound as if there was no turning back. Maybe Aiya didn't know it had gone that far. When it came down to it, the advantages really did seem to outweigh the risks … if anything, he'd definitely have the upper hand in any duels with Draco once he was back at school.  
  
     "I'll go through with it," he finally said in a steady, determined voice, but the mature attitude he was striving for collapsed as he blanched and added shrilly, "but there's no way I'm letting you bite me, so don't even ask."  
  
     Aiya made a gagging sound. "Yuck! Why the hell would I bite you? That's Sirius's hang-up, not mine." This made Harry laugh as he remembered Snape yelling at Sirius for exactly that reason, which in turn led Harry's thoughts down into the gutter again as he started combining the ideas of Snape and being bitten …  
  
     "Harry!"  
  
     He blinked and focused back on Aiya's face, turning bright red again as he watched her in her struggle not to laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, pouting. "And no eavesdropping on my … err, thoughts." 'Lunatic ravings' was what he'd wanted to say, but future sister or not, he really didn't feel comfortable talking about his latest sexual fantasy to Aiya, especially when that fantasy involved a man he'd hated for the past seven years.  
  
     [No promises, Little Brother,] the teasing words floated gently into his mind and Harry glared at her, but they both knew he wasn't really angry. _Maybe having a sister won't be so bad_ , he thought, and he didn't bother to hide his grin when this time it was Aiya who blushed, looking very touched.   
  
     "You should get some sleep," he said, bending down to kiss her forehead, not sure why it felt natural to do so but he supposed it was part of this 'bonding' that Remus had talked about. He waited until she'd closed her eyes and her breathing evened out before he tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

 


	4. Embracing Darkness

 

       The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Harry. Dumbledore left, leaving all the preparations for Harry's 'adoption' in the capable hands of Remus, Sirius, and Snape. All Harry knew about the ceremony was that he was expected to drink a potion (the reason Snape stuck around) and listen to Aiya say some incantation, and then Harry would be confined to his bed for a few days as his body processed the change from full-blooded human to half-blooded Mori.  
  
       Harry sat with Remus and Sirius in the sitting room that connected to Sirius's bedroom, which allowed the three of them to keep a watchful eye on Aiya while Snape took care of concocting the potion that would be used in that evening's ceremony. The room was small and cozy with plush armchairs, mercifully lacking any angry Black family portraits as the walls were plastered instead with various framed pictures of Sirius's adopted family - including a picture of Sirius, Remus and Harry taken at a Weasley family cook-out and an old photo of Sirius and James with their brooms, fresh from an informal game of quidditch. While the rest of the house could be cold and dreary and in need of a good interior decorator, Sirius's sitting room was an oasis of comfort and belonging, a sanctuary that Harry believed kept his godfather sane during the long months when Harry was at school.  
  
       Yet however welcoming the atmosphere, the room could not compete with the underlying tensions that had been building in Grimmauld Place ever since Aiya's arrival. Harry sat across from his godfather and Remus, chatting inanely about anything and everything in an attempt to lure the two older men out of their respective funks.  
  
       " … and of course Ron didn't study either, so we had to promise Hermione we'd help her put up fliers for S.P.E.W. in exchange for her notes." His anecdote fell on deaf ears and Harry grew sick of being ignored. "But just to be safe I went to Snape after class and gave him a blow job so he wouldn't fail us, which really wasn't so bad, so I think I'll do it every time I have a Potions exam …"  
  
       Harry barely got out the word 'exam' before Sirius shook himself from his reverie and exploded, leaping to his feet in a rage. "What?! Harry, you can't be serious!"  
  
       "Of course he's not serious," Remus said with a sigh, glaring at Harry in disapproval as he forced Sirius back into his chair.  
  
       "Just seeing if you were paying attention," Harry said sheepishly.  
  
       "Really, Black, how can you be so gullible? Of course I would never indulge in such petty bartering."        

       Harry gulped and looked towards the open door of the sitting room, drinking in the sight of Snape leaning wearily against the doorframe, a vial of crimson liquid in his hand. The man's posture screamed exhaustion but not even a hint of his discomfort showed in his expression.

       "I only accept _full-service_ gratification in exchange for an exam grade. Oral stimulation alone just isn't worth my time."  
  
       Harry gaped at his professor. _Had Snape just made a joke?_ And a rather lewd one, at that. Sirius, for one, did not seem to find Snape's comments amusing.  
  
       "Is there something you wanted, Snivellus?" he snapped, looking decidedly shaggier, his skin darkening a shade or two as he let a bit of his Padfoot persona show through.  
  
       Snape rested his inky black gaze on Harry, a ghost of a smile haunting the corners of his mouth as he watched Harry shift uneasily in his seat, then a glimmer of self-reproach broke through his predatory expression and he cleared his throat, turning back to Sirius with a glare. "Unlike you, I have been doing something productive with my time." He stalked forward and shoved the vial of liquid into Harry's hand. The brief touch of skin against skin sent a shiver through Harry that he hoped his professor didn't notice. "I finished the potion."  
  
       "Then I suppose we should begin?" Remus spoke up before Sirius could think of something insulting to say to his childhood enemy.  
  
       "Is … everyone going to watch?" Harry was suddenly nervous. It wasn't as if he had to do anything particularly embarassing, but he wasn't sure how he would react to the potion and the last thing he wanted to do was pass out or throw up in front of Snape.  
  
       "Sirius and Professor Snape are going to be witnesses," Remus explained as he ushered Harry through the door that connected the sitting room to Sirius's bedroom, "and I will wait outside to make sure you aren't disturbed." The fact that there might be other Order members in the house had completely slipped Harry's mind and he was glad that Remus, as usual, was on top of things. Aiya was already out of bed and dressed in formal robes of a black, silky material. It was the first time he'd seen her dressed in the clothing of the wizarding world. He watched as she finished up a discussion with Grimmauld Place's least lovable inhabitant.  
  
       " … and I would appreciate your cooperation in this matter. I would go myself but once the ceremony is complete I will need to stay by my brother's side. I ask you to do this of your own volition. Will you help me?" Harry watched as a sour-faced Kreacher nodded in understanding to the dark-haired woman standing straight-backed and confident in front of him. Harry had never seen Kreacher quite so docile, though it seemed nothing could improve the house-elf's disposition. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as the wizened elf performed a jerky bow then popped out of the room. Was that … _respect_ that Kreacher had just exhibited? Grudging respect, but still …  
  
       Aiya looked up after Kreacher's hasty departure, the grave expression on her face melting away at the sight of Harry. [Little Brother,] she greeted him warmly, then with a girlish squeal she launched herself forward and hugged him tightly, nearly suffocating him with her embrace.  
  
       "Ai-aiya … s-s-some a-air … Aiya … I c-can't breathe," Harry gasped out and his soon-to-be-sister quickly released him, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.  
  
       "Sorry, I guess I got carried away," she said, her lavender eyes glowing with a renewed sense of energy and purpose.  
  
       "I'll be outside," Remus took his leave with a curt nod to Aiya and a small smile to Harry. For some reason he seemed eager to be out of the room, though Harry supposed it was due to the man's reservations about allowing Harry to go through the ceremony at all.  
  
       "He thinks I'm ruining Harry's life," Aiya said after Remus left, but Sirius only laughed and tugged on a lock of Aiya's hair playfully.  
  
       "It's getting closer to his 'time of the month.' He's just grouchy, is all."  
  
       "It's not as if I'm forcing Harry." Aiya's exuberant smile had faded into a petulant pout, and Sirius's teasing manner did little to cheer her. "And really, just because some sadistic, half-crazed wolf bit him when he was a kid doesn't mean Remus has to take his issues out on me. It's not as if I haven't suffered my share of - "  
  
       "Are you going to recite every wrong done to you during your school years or are we going to actually complete this ceremony tonight?" Snape butted into Aiya's rant with his slow, sensual drawl, standing closest to the sitting room door and exuding an air of absolute boredom with the world around him.  
  
       "Meanie," was Aiya's childish reply, and she took Harry's hand and drew him towards the window. The sun had set and Harry could actually feel the darkness that descended on the world as that fiery orb disappeared below the horizon. He attributed the unusual sensation to his bond with Aiya, and she nodded her head in answer to his unspoken thoughts. "Yes, you feel a little of what I can feel … it will be stronger once you are a Mori yourself."  
  
       Harry eyed the vial in his hand. His entire life was going to change as soon as he drank Snape's potion. The crimson liquid looked so much like blood that it made him queasy. He knew Aiya's blood was an ingredient of the potion but couldn't it have looked like something else? Couldn't it have been blue or green or anything but red?  
  
       "You have to be sure, Harry," Aiya said quietly, observing his trepidation even without gleaning his thoughts. He looked up at her and saw how serious she looked, so unlike the Aiya who joked with him or acted childish when things didn't go her way. That Aiya was familiar to him, so familiar that he didn't think it was possible they'd only met two days ago, but the Aiya staring at him now with such wisdom in her eyes was someone new and reassuring. This Aiya was powerful - and she was willing to pass that power on to Harry. All he had to do was reach out and take it.  
  
       He pulled the stopper out of the vial and drank the potion in one gulp, suppressing his gag reflex when he tasted the coppery tang of blood as the overriding flavor in an otherwise bland potion. He didn't feel any different having drank the thing, but apparently it had some effect on his outward appearance because he heard Sirius's strangled gasp and Snape's wry comment of, "Now _that_ was unexpected."  
  
       "Hmmm …" Aiya, too, looked surprised by something, but then she smiled at Harry and turned him so that he faced towards the window. The moon was bright, less than a week away from being full, and its silvery light fell directly onto Harry's upturned face as he stared at the sky. "Look down, Harry. Look at your hands."  
  
       Harry glanced down, his breath catching in his throat at the way his skin now glowed with a pale, ghostly light, similar to the moonlight that shone down on him from the night sky.  
  
       " _Isilme_ …. the light that illuminates the darkness." Aiya's voice sounded soft and distant. "It is rare to be moon-touched like this in my bloodline. In fact, I think you are the first morion of Evernight, natural-born or otherwise, to have such a reaction to moonlight. It's a good sign."  
  
       "Except that he'll glow at night like a Muggle streetlamp," Snape growled, his voice jerking Aiya out of her dreamy state.  
  
       "A minor issue," she said calmly, as if she wasn't willing to concede that a glowing Harry would in any way be a problem. She placed her hands on Harry's shoulders, turning him away from the window so that she could look into his eyes.  
  
       [You don't have to do anything from here on,] she spoke to him silently, [just listen to my voice.]  
  
       Harry nodded, too caught up in the sudden euphoria flowing through his body to do much else. The pleasant sensation he'd felt during nightfall seemed to have tripled, and a sweet warmth spread all over his skin as Aiya began to recite words in a language he didn't recognize. The musical words falling from her lips were elusive, his mind unable to grasp them before they faded away, so he gave up trying and just focused on the sound of Aiya's voice. The room around him started to grow dim and he swayed on his feet.  
  
       "He's going to fall," he heard someone whisper right before a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he gratefully leaned back against the solid strength of the person behind him, his head lolling back against the person's shoulder as Harry's entire body decided it was time to shut down for the night. He closed his eyes in agreement, finding it very comforting to be held like this, surrounded by a rich, musky scent that affected his body in exciting new ways while still managing to lull him towards sleep.  
  
       [Not yet, _Toror'amin_ ,] Aiya pressed into his mind even as she continued her strange chanting, and Harry forced himself to keep his eyes open, mesmerized by the way Aiya's eyes were now a swirling mixture of purples, lavender shifting to indigo shifting to violet, almost as hypnotic as her voice.  
  
       It seemed to go on forever, until it reached the point where Harry heard Aiya's voice as one long sound, all the foreign words slurring together and forming a song so beautiful that he knew he would never forget it as long as he lived.  
  
       Suddenly the song stopped and Harry's fragile resistance to the siren call of sleep shattered. The last thing he heard before the black void embraced him was Aiya's gentle voice …  
  
       " _Creoso a' Tel'huine, Toror'amin_." **  
**

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> **morion** \- son of the dark  
>  **isilme** \- moonlight  
>  **toror'amin** \- my brother  
>  **Creoso a' Tel'huine** \- Welcome to the Darkness


	5. Fevered Dreams

 

  
       Harry had no concept of time as he moved in and out of consciousness, waking from his fevered dreams only long enough to catch a glimpse of a blurry face looming over him or to hear snatches of conversation. In the darkness of his dreams he felt weightless, a state of being that reminded him distinctly of flying, but on the rare occasion that he emerged from his slumber he could feel gravity's pull tugging him back into the prison of his body. It hurt to be awake, so he avoided it as much as possible, falling back into the void of sleep as easily as hitting a light switch. There seemed to be a heavy black curtain between him and the rest of the world, and though he could sense shapes and muffled voices beyond the veil, they were distant and unimportant.   
  
       His dreams started out as simple memories, sometimes of his life with the Dursleys, sometimes of his friends and Hogwarts, but as he grew more accustomed to the unending night that surrounded him, Harry began to dream of people he'd never seen before and places he didn't recognize. There were animals, as well - a raven that watched over Harry from above and a black panther that followed Harry wherever he traveled in his dreamscape, the sleek predator once allowing Harry to stroke his hand over the velvety fur of its back before it padded away.   
  
       And then he dreamed of Voldemort.  
  
       He knew as soon as he stepped into the seemingly deserted mansion that he had crossed over from harmless dreams into the nightmarish world of visions. The realization annoyed him, not inspiring the terror he usually felt while trapped in Voldemort's twisted reality, and he felt bold enough to walk willingly into the gloomy confines of the decrepit building instead of waiting for the vision to progress in its own way.   
  
       The shadows greeted him lovingly as he passed through a long corridor, their dark, formless fingers gliding over his arms and chest, sometimes grazing over his cheek, but when he gave no command they fell away and resumed their silent watch. At the end of the corridor stood a door. Harry reached forward to open it but someone else got to it first, a masked Death Eater passing through Harry's non-corporeal form and entering the room in front of him.   
  
       "I have news from Bellatrix," the unknown man said. "The entire village was emptied when she arrived. Not a single family remained behind. They obviously learned of our intentions somehow and evacuated."  
  
       Voldemort sat in front of an unlit fireplace, his reptilian features twisted into an expression of distaste, an underlying note of fury in his raspy voice. "A spy in the ranks? I find it hard to believe any of my Death Eaters would risk my wrath for the sake of such isolated creatures. Investigate, but be subtle. Report all your findings to me and me alone."   
  
       "Yes, my Lord." The Death Eater bowed and walked right past Harry, exiting through the door and closing it behind him.  
  
       _What would Voldemort want with an entire village?_ Harry couldn't make sense of what he'd heard. Were they Muggles? Or wizards? Or something else entirely? The fact that Voldemort's victims had escaped him put a huge smile on Harry's face. He stood alone in the room with his greatest enemy, waiting for the vision to end or some other important piece of information to come his way, but nothing happened. Voldemort just stared malevolently off into space, no doubt weaving together a new trap for Harry or some other unfortunate soul, and Harry started to get bored.   
  
       _What's the matter? Why am I still here?_ He scratched his head in puzzlement, only now realizing how blissfully painless his vision had been so far. His scar hadn't hurt at all, even with him standing only a few feet away from Voldemort, and never before had he been given such an objective, third-person view of events as he was given now.  
  
       _It'd be nice if the tables were turned for once,_ he thought bitterly, glaring at the dark wizard who'd killed his parents and so many other innocent people. _I think this time you should get the headache, you evil bastard._ He focused all his anger and resentment into that silent tirade, and much to his surprise he saw Voldemort wince and bring a scaly hand up to his forehead, rubbing at his temple.  
  
       Harry blinked, then laughed. Now he couldn't be sure if it was really a vision or just a very amusing dream. He was still laughing as the room faded from his sight and darkness consumed him once more.

*     *     *     *     *

  
  
       He drifted in darkness for a long time, his body becoming so unbearably hot at times that he would wrap himself in a layer of cool shadow to ease the discomfort, but his relief never lasted long and he grew restless in the black cocoon he'd constructed for himself. In the distance but growing louder came the sounds of people speaking:  
  
       _… the train leaves tomorrow. He won't make it …  
  
       Take him to the infirmary …  
  
       … not a natural reaction … no way to predict when he will …  
_  
       The voices penetrated the darkness and stabbed at his sensitive hearing, causing him to curl up tighter in the womb-like shelter he'd built for himself in his mind. He could feel excess energy building up in his body as it had before the ceremony, his fingertips tingling from it, but he could find no outlet for the power welling up inside and it began to cause him pain. He became aware of hands on his body, changing him out of sweat-soaked clothing into clean, dry pajamas, another hand pressing cool fingers against his forehead as a sweet voice whispered words of reassurance in his ear.   
  
       _I'm dying_ , he thought, and frantically he reached out to the one person he believed could save him, [Aiya! I'm dying, Aiya!]  
  
       Three agonizing seconds of silence passed before he felt the gentle caress of Aiya's voice in his mind. [No, Little Brother. You are changing. Do not fight it and the pain will ease.] Accompanying her words was a wave of love and acceptance that soothed Harry's panicked thoughts, and as he relaxed his body the pain became bearable.  
  
       [I have to leave you for now, Little Brother, but I have asked someone to look after you until I can return. You are not alone. If you are scared, reach out to me … I am never far from you.]   
  
       Harry felt Aiya's presence fade from his mind, but he could still feel the connection between the two of them like an invisible cord. All he had to do was tug on that cord and he knew Aiya would be there for him. Still, even though he knew he wasn't alone, Harry yearned for the reassurance of human touch as another spike of incredible heat assaulted his body. It was not a painful feeling but it was overwhelming all the same, and it tore a whimper from his dry, chapped lips.   
  
       "Potter? What is it?" The voice was familiar but muffled by the darkness. "Are you thirsty?"  He felt something cool and wet pressed to his lips and he drank greedily from the cup of water being offered to him. His head and shoulders were being supported by someone's strong arm, his cheek being pressed against a cloth-covered chest, and suddenly Harry was aware of the most delightful scent - musky and male - and the moaning sound he made had nothing to do with the burning fever ravaging his body. He rubbed his cheek against the chest of the person who held him, wanting more of that scent.  
  
       "Go back to sleep, Potter," the voice said sternly, but that rich, velvety voice only served to inflame Harry's sudden passions and he clung to the shirtfront of the person tending to him. Acting on instinct alone, Harry raised his head, still blinded by darkness but determined to find some relief from the trapped heat within his body. He knew, somehow, that this person could help him, and with trembling hands he reached up, sliding his fingers through long, lank hair.  
  
       "Please," he whispered, not ashamed to beg as he nuzzled against the person's neck, breathing in that heavenly scent.  
  
       "Damn you for leaving, Aiya," the voice sounded conflicted, frustrated. There was a long pause where the only sound Harry heard was his own panting breaths, and then the warm body he was pressed against began to move away, arms lowering him gently back to the bed as the voice returned, cold and controlled once more, "I'm going to fetch someone else to help you, Potter."  
  
       Harry took advantage of the man's nearness to wrap his arms around the man's neck and draw him back down against him. "Don't go," he murmured, finally finding the strength to open his eyes but instantly forced to shut them when the light of the room proved too painful for him. "It's … so hot," he choked out, pleased to find that by catching the man off-guard he'd succeeded in dragging him down onto the bed on top of him. He took advantage of the hard body above him and thrust his hips upward, finally achieving a satisfactory outlet for all that surplus energy.  
  
       "Potter, stop that," the voice hissed, but the man's hands seemed to have a mind of their own as one wandered down to Harry's hip and the other threaded into his hair and tugged harshly, the pain of that grip sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Harry's groin, and he bucked again against the body above him. The man moaned, his breath hot and sweet against Harry's lips as he spoke in a steely baritone, "You just can't behave yourself, can you?" And then Harry was being kissed, deeply and thoroughly, a wickedly clever tongue seeking entrance into his mouth that Harry was all too willing to oblige.  
  
       His experience with kisses was limited, from the disastrous attempts with Cho to the somewhat awkward but enlightening experimentation with a boy who lived down the street from his aunt and uncle's house, but even he could appreciate the bruising, possessive kiss he was currently enjoying for what it truly was: absolutely perfect. He could feel the man's erection as their bodies rutted against each other but suddenly the delicious friction came to a halt, as well as the kiss. Harry whined and tried to tug the man back down but all he got in return was a husky chuckle.  
  
       "I want you coherent the first time I take you, Potter," the voice said in a slow, sinful drawl, and then long, warm fingers were slipping past the waistband of his pajama bottoms and wrapping around his hard, straining erection, freeing him from the soft fabric before stroking him sensually up and down, "but for now I suppose I can help you out a little."  
  
       Harry gasped and arched into the touch, rolling his hips upward as he began to thrust eagerly into that talented hand. Lips and teeth were exploring the smooth skin of his throat, biting and licking, stirring something beyond physical pleasure inside of Harry - an intuition that the person touching him was meant to do so. It only took a few jerks of the man's fist before Harry was cumming, his scream of pleasure sounding unearthly even to his own ears. He could've sworn he heard the voice groaning, " _Beautiful_ ," but really he was so far gone by then that he didn't give it much thought. All the pent-up heat and energy from before had burst from Harry along with his release, and he sighed in relief and satisfaction, surrendering to his drowsiness as someone cleaned his sticky skin with a warm, wet cloth. His pajamas were soon put back in place and a light blanket was spread over his body.  
  
       "Go to sleep," that oh-so-familiar voice whispered in his ear, and with a contented smile, Harry obeyed.

 


	6. A Little Sisterly Advice

  
       The world around Harry buzzed with excited voices, some high-pitched and childlike, others deep and hoarse with age, but all of them speaking to him and of him and generally making an unwelcome racket when all Harry wanted to do was go back to sleep. He burrowed further under the covers but the voices followed, one droning voice in particular telling Harry just how pointless his actions were and warning him _'you cannot run away from your own mind, my boy, and expect it to still be there when you come back,'_ which reminded Harry so much of something Dumbledore might say that he immediately sat up in bed, fully opening his eyes for the first time since the ceremony and glancing around the room in confusion.  
  
       [Time to get up, Little Brother!] Aiya's singsong greeting overpowered the chorus of unknown voices inside Harry's mind, and blissful silence followed in its wake. He breathed a sigh of relief, only to realize that he was not in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place.This room was large and spartan, the only furnishings being the canopied bed that Harry currently occupied, a tall cherry-wood dresser, and an oversized trunk with many locks. There were also several boxes haphazardly strewn about the floor, some opened and half-emptied, some still sealed with what looked like duct tape to Harry. Aiya sat in the middle of the sea of boxes, her long hair twisted into a crown of braids and her casual Muggle clothing replaced by plain, black robes. For once, she looked the part of a professor, though the mischief in her smile ruined her otherwise severe image.  
  
       "Have a good sleep, did you?" she asked, pushing herself to her feet.  
  
       Harry stared at her, a little alarmed at the way she slid in and out of focus. He reached for his glasses out of habit, but since there was no bedside table his hand grasped only air. "It had its moments," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his other hand. "Is there a reason you keep going all blurry on me?"  
  
       "Your vision is fine, Harry," Aiya hopped over a box and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You won't even need glasses anymore. Your eyes are … well, they're not _new_ , exactly … more like they've undergone some major improvements, and now they're adjusting."  
  
       "I think I tried to open them before but it really hurt," Harry said absently, then blushed when he remembered the circumstances surrounding his first attempt at sight. Had that been real? Or just a dream caused by the fever?  
  
       Aiya either didn't notice his embarrassment or chose not to comment on it. "Newborn Mori are unable to open their eyes for several days after birth because their eyes are so sensitive to light - I guess the same thing goes for humans who become Mori."  
  
       "How long was I asleep?"  
  
       "Eight days."  
  
       "What?! But that means I've missed the train to Hogwarts!" Harry kicked off the covers, scrambling out of bed only to find his legs had some adjusting to do as well, seeing as they only held him up for a few seconds before he tumbled to the floor.  
  
       "Well, I guess we can cross 'graceful' off the list of Mori traits you've inherited," she said with a grin as she hauled him to his feet, supporting him easily as she helped him back onto the bed. "Your body's been through some tough times, Harry. You can't just leap out of bed and except everything to work the way it did before."  
  
       "I get that _now_." He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation only to find that it had grown out to just past his shoulders. _Mirror … need to find a mirror,_ was his only thought, but there were no mirrors in the bedroom, and since his legs weren't cooperating at the moment he couldn't exactly go in search of one.  
  
       He took a  deep, calming breath. "Maybe you should just fill me in on what I've missed."  
  
       "Let's see," Aiya bent down and rummaged in a nearby box while explaining the situation. "In spite of your fever, you slept very peacefully for the first two days, which is completely natural. We kept you in your bedroom and told anyone who asked about you that you felt too sick for company. On the third day I kept expecting you to wake up, and I even tried connecting to you but it was like trying to see you through a black veil …"  
  
       _The dark curtain from my dreams,_ Harry thought, and Aiya smiled. "Yes, that is exactly what it was like …  a curtain that separated you from me. I realized by the fourth day that you were using Occlumency …"  
  
       "But I'm a horrible Occlumens!" Harry protested. How many times had he failed during those Occlumency lessons with Snape? At the thought of Snape, certain memories from his feverish dreams resurfaced and Harry turned red. That familiar voice … there was no way it had been Snape's voice, right? There was no way it had been Snape's hand that …  
  
       "Well you aren't doing such a hot job of it now, I agree," Aiya chuckled. "And I really don't want to know anything about Severus's 'talented fingers,' so try and think of something else."  
  
       Harry grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. "Quit poking around in my head, Aiya!"  
  
       "I'm not! I promise! You're just broadcasting everything right now. It's something you've got to learn to control." She threw the pillow back at him, still grinning good-naturedly. Though it made Harry mad to think Aiya might be invading his privacy, it also relieved him to know that she wasn't disgusted with him for whatever thoughts he was having about Snape. In fact, she looked pleased by the idea of it, regardless of her comment that she preferred to not hear the details.  
  
       "Anyway, back to what I was saying." she pulled a small tin out from the bottom of the cardboard box, then stood up and walked back to the bed, leaning against the bedpost and staring down at Harry. "You were using Occlumency, which is a natural ability of the Mori, so I had to wait until you let down your defenses before I could speak to you. You're very strong, Harry. I didn't realize just how strong you were until then. Yesterday, I could feel you opening yourself up again. I couldn't believe how much you were changing … a half-blooded Mori usually changes more on the inside than the outside, but you were exhibiting full-blooded physical characteristics. We didn't know what to do since you were supposed to be getting on the Hogwarts Express the next day. Albus suggested we take you to the infirmary and keep you there until school started."  
  
       Harry could recall snatches of conversation about the train and the infirmary, but most of his focus had been on the scorching heat that had consumed his body. "I thought I was dying."  
  
       "Yes, you called out to me," Aiya sat down on the bed and pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. "You were very frightened, but I was so happy to finally be connected to you again that it took me a moment to get hold of myself and comfort you properly." She released him reluctantly. "Severus and I brought you here to the castle, but I didn't feel safe leaving you in the infirmary so I made Severus keep you in his rooms while the house-elves were getting my rooms prepared. I have to have special wards in my rooms, and they weren't ready yet." She looked around the room, wrinkling her nose. "They still aren't much to look at, but I haven't really had the time to decorate."  
  
       Harry was still stuck on the part where he had stayed in Snape's rooms. And most likely in Snape's _bed_. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. The worst part was he didn't know whether to feel triumph or despair at this revelation.  
  
       Aiya carried on, oblivious. "Sirius threw a tantrum at not being able to stay with you, and finally I had to just go back and get him so he'd stop sending me howlers. Damn dog."  
  
       "That's why you left?"  
  
       "Yes, and I put Severus in charge of you." Aiya's lavender eyes glowed as she directed a sly smile at Harry. "Little did I know just how … _thoroughly_ … he would take care of you."  
  
       Harry peeked up at her through his fingers, giving her the darkest glare he could muster while suffering from acute mortification. How could he even look at Snape again? How could he sit in his Potions classes and not relive that exquisite … _no, no, not exquisite,_ he scolded himself … that _shameful_ event over and over in his mind?  
  
       "Listen, Harry," Aiya pried his hands away from his face. "I'm your big sister now and I love you, but you have got to stop thinking like a human and start thinking like a Mori. A Mori lives by intuition - it's what keeps us alive against impossible odds. Humans are always second-guessing themselves, but a Mori doesn't have that luxury. There are some things we instinctively know - who to trust, who to fear … and who to love. In fact, I can promise you that - " but Aiya suddenly stopped.  
  
       "Promise me what?" Harry watched the slow shift from lavender to indigo in his sister's eyes, a sure sign that Aiya was upset.  
  
       " - that you can trust your instincts." Aiya got up from the bed, still clutching the small tin as she navigated her way through the maze of boxes. "I'm going to make you some tea."  
  
       [That wasn't what you were going to say,] he challenged her, but Aiya kept walking, only acknowledging his words with a mental hug as she disappeared from the bedroom.  
  
  
                                                                                                        *     *     *     *     *  
  
  
       The tea that Aiya gave him was bitter, but Harry began to feel much stronger as soon as he drank it. His vision had cleared by now, revealing new aspects of the world around him that his human eyes had been unable to see. Shadows lurked like living, breathing creatures all around the room, though most of them huddled together in corners like litters of sleeping puppies piling together for warmth. When he looked at Aiya, Harry could see past some of her weaker glamours, the ones that covered the pointed tips of her ears and the unfamiliar runes tattooed on the backs of her hands. There were other glamours in place that his eyesight could not pierce, but Harry felt those were not hiding Mori traits from his eyes, but hid something that Aiya did not want anyone - even family - to see.  
  
       "I need to teach you 'dimming' before I let you go to the feast," Aiya was saying as she helped him into the bathroom for his first look at himself since becoming a morion. Harry's legs supported him now but he was still very wobbly, and he had to rely on his sister to keep him from falling flat on his face. By now, all the students had arrived at the school and the sorting ceremony had started, but Harry wanted to know what he looked like before he did anything else. The way Aiya talked, he looked more like a natural-born Mori than a 'turned' human, and for someone as self-conscious about his looks as Harry, to be told you didn't look quite human wasn't exactly reassuring.  
  
       The bathroom was opulent compared to the bedroom, with an ornate bathtub and black marble everywhere. Several varieties of soaps and scented oils were kept in crystal bowls nearby, and a beautiful tapestry hung across most of the far wall, depicting a woodland scene. Harry could only guess the house elves were responsible, as he didn't think the decorating suited Aiya's personality at all. "What is dimming? Is that like glamours?"  
  
       "No, glamours are illusions. Dimming is more like … hmmm, I guess you could say it's like lowering your voice when you don't want other people to hear what you're saying. Dimming is something the Mori do to alter our appearance around humans without having to use magic." Aiya gently lowered Harry to a seat on the side of the bathtub, then backed away. "It'll be easier if I show you. I've been dimming for so long that I tend to forget I'm doing it, so this will be the first time you'll see the real me." She flashed him a wicked grin. "Are you ready for it?"  
  
       Harry felt a nervous knot form in his stomach, a reaction he came to associate with those rare occasions he saw Aiya indulge in such a devilish smile. [You give me the creeps,] he thought at her, then sighed and gestured for her to get on with it.  
  
       Giggling, Aiya closed her eyes. Harry didn't notice anything different at first but soon he could see subtle changes in her face and skin, her natural beauty sharpening and the symmetry of her face becoming more defined. Pale skin slowly turned pearlescent, not quite the moonlit glow of Harry's skin the night of the ceremony, but similar in a way. Everything that had been lovely and charming about Aiya suddenly became _too_ lovely and _too_ charming, passing into the realm of inhuman. It was terrifying to watch, and Harry nearly had to look away as Aiya opened her eyes and revealed the last of her hidden attributes: the swirling purples of her eyes that he had seen only once before, near the end of the 'adoption' ceremony. The rapidly shifting shades did not have that soft, muted glow he was accustomed to; Aiya's eyes were keen and bright, as piercing as steel, _hypnotic_.  
  
       "If you think I'm scary," Aiya's voice remained the same as ever, much to Harry's relief, "you should take a look at yourself." She gestured with her hand to the mirror that hung on the wall behind Harry. He found himself frozen to the spot, afraid to look. [You have nothing to fear,] Aiya's wicked smile was twice as disturbing when coupled with her undimmed beauty. [You're gorgeous, Harry. The sexiest morion I've seen in decades.]  
  
       [That's just the sort of thing I want to hear from my _sister_ ,] Harry responded with a roll of his eyes, but the affectionate laughter Aiya pressed into his mind gave him the courage to smile as well and turn towards the mirror.  
  
       The first thing he noticed was his eyes. They were still green, but like Aiya's eyes they were a multitude of shades, from a dark jade to a softer moss and even a bright aquamarine, though more often than not they resolved themselves into a deep emerald color. He wondered what color would indicate he was upset and which one would mean he was happy.  
  
       "They turn jade when you're angry," Aiya said softly, "and a brighter, grassy green when you're laughing. The aquamarine comes along every time you think about Sev - well, every time you blush. Those are the only ones I've noticed so far."  
  
       Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, taking note of the bluish sheen. The color reminded him of the blue-black feathers of the raven in his dream. His hair was a little longer than he liked, but he could always cut it later. Even at this length, his unruly tresses refused to be tamed, but instead of being annoyed Harry was grateful that at least one thing about him had stayed the same.  
  
       His face … well, with the high cheekbones, the sculpted nose, the full red lips - it was like looking at an extremely sharp version of himself, without the subtle imperfections that softened human features. His ears were only slightly pointed but in all other ways he closely resembled the morwen standing behind him. He was still Harry, still a combination of James and Lily, but now with an overall gilding of Evernight. He was a little taller now but not quite as stick-thin, looking the most nourished and healthy he'd looked in his entire life. His scar, alone, looked untouched by the transformation. Like Aiya's, his features were overpowering, and it was all too easy to understand the need to 'dim' them.  
  
       "Showing your true face to a human is a dangerous thing, Harry. The majority are either repulsed or entranced by what they see, and neither reaction is convenient for us." Aiya stepped up behind him, reverting to the 'dimmed' Aiya he was used to. "There are worse things to be used as than living shields, Harry … depravities that the history books do not speak of, not even Culpepper's unbiased account."  
  
       Harry felt a flicker of fear and revulsion from his sister, and his eyes paled to a mossy green in response. Something told him that Aiya knew of these depravities from experienceand not just from tales handed down by the older Mori who had lived through the ancient times. He decided that it would be best to change the subject. "So how do I dim it down?"  
  
       Aiya blinked, shaken out of her dark mood by Harry's question. Her sweet smile returned and she titled her head to one side, studying her brother with eyes that glowed a tranquil lavender. "We use shadows. Close your eyes and imagine you're soaking in every shadow in the room. You'll start to feel full after a while, and that's how you know to stop. Some call it 'feeding' because of that, though it's not like you're eating anything."  
  
       Harry remembered Remus saying something about Aiya feeding on the day she and Kingsley fought. "So you were 'dimming' when Kingsley attacked you?"  
  
       Aiya grimaced. "Yeah. I wouldn't normally make such a stupid mistake. If I'd been in a room full of ordinary wizards, I'm sure no one would have noticed, but Aurors are taught what to look out for when dealing with dark creatures and he noticed the subtle changes in my appearance as well as the sudden lack of shadows in the room. It's such a small thing to look for, but Aurors are trained to notice every little detail."  
  
       Harry nodded, then closed his eyes. No food for eight days had left him with a rather empty stomach, so the faster he could get back to human-looking Harry and get to the feast, the sooner he could stuff his face with all that wonderful Hogwarts food. He felt a shadow, cool and silky, brush against his arm and he drew it closer and closer to him until he could feel it merging with his body. Slowly, he lured and consumed two more shadows in similar fashion before he felt a 'full' sensation, as if his body had reached the limit of darkness it could contain without ruining Harry's waistline.  
  
       He opened his eyes and found the old Harry staring back at him in wonderment. The only visible sign that his humanity had been compromised was the slow shift of emerald to sour apple green in his eyes, and Harry smiled. "That wasn't so hard."  
  
       "You're a fast learner," Aiya agreed, and, after applying a glamour to disguise his ears, she helped him hobble out of the bathroom. Since there was little chance of Harry being bathed in moonlight, they didn't bother to worry about his 'Muggle street lamp' condition, as Snape had put it. "Now take a minute to rest. Your legs should be steadier in a few minutes, and then you can go get something to eat. We'll have to save any further lessons on how to be a proper Mori for later. Dumbledore wants to see you in his office after the feast, and then Sirius will probably monopolize you for an hour or two, so I wouldn't recommend telling your friends anything just yet. Wait until tomorrow when you have plenty of time to explain things."  
  
       "Any other orders before you leave?" Harry sank down on the bed with a weary sigh. He hadn't been awake for very long, but already he was feeling the strain of exhaustion. Getting through classes tomorrow was not going to be easy.  
  
       "No," and Aiya was halfway out the door before she paused and grinned, "but I have a dare or two in mind, if you're game?"  
  
       Harry's Mori instincts must have been in high gear because he knew better than to take his devious sister up on her offer. "I think I'd rather not be completely humiliated tonight, thanks."  
  
       "Pity," was Aiya's only reply, and with a wink, she was gone.

 


	7. History Repeats Itself

  
            By the time he’d changed his clothes, tied back his long hair and discovered where Aiya had hidden his wand, Harry had missed both the sorting ceremony as well as Dumbledore’s announcements, and the feast was already underway. His feet dragged as he walked into the Great Hall, his palms sweaty and his heart racing. He hadn’t thought much about the idea of having to hide who he was from the majority of the school, but now his situation had become frighteningly real. One mistake, one slip of his glamours could prove disastrous, not only for himself but for Aiya as well.  
  
            He paused on the threshold of the huge room, using one hand to shield his eyes from the candlelight pouring down from above. A group of shadows circling near the door converged on him, playfully whirling around him, their ghostly caresses easing a fraction of his trepidation as he grinned at them. [Go bother Aiya,] he commanded them, feeling very much like an older brother who has sent his younger siblings off on some mischievous errand that was likely to get them all into a great deal of trouble. The shadows obeyed, moving unseen by students and teachers alike as they wove around bodies and under tables, finally reaching their destination as they danced around the feet of the morwen sitting at the head table.  
  
            [Sending your troops after me, are you?] Aiya joked, glancing away from her conversation with Professor Sprout to lock gazes with her little brother. She slightly inclined her head to him, her own confidence and easy manner giving Harry the courage to fully enter the hall and walk over to the Gryffindor table.  
  
            [Just wanted to see if they’d listen to me,] he replied as he watched her smile and look away. He noticed that sitting on her other side was Snape, but he didn’t allow himself to study the man like he wanted to, instead focusing his attention on his two best friends who were now jumping up from their seats and walking towards him. Distracted by Ron and Hermione, Harry didn’t notice the brief hush that descended on the Great Hall or the way his appearance attracted the curious glances of many of the students (and even some of the teachers).  
  
            “Harry! Thank goodness you’re alright. We’ve been so worried!” Hermione enveloped him in a big hug, nearly knocking Harry off his feet. Observant witch that she was, Hermione immediately noticed how unsteady he was and narrowed her eyes in concern. “You are better, aren’t you? Professor McGonagall said you had fully recovered.”  
  
            “You tackling him probably didn’t help,” Ron said with a roll of his eyes, then he grinned at his friend and clapped one hand on his shoulder. “Good to see you up and around, Harry. Mum nearly had a fit when she heard you were sick – but it must have been some weird cold you had if pepper-up potion didn’t take care of it.”  
  
            Harry flinched, only now realizing how flimsy Aiya’s excuse had been. [And everyone bought your story that I had a _cold_?] he taunted her, unaware that his eyes were turning that grassy green that meant he was amused, much to the mutual astonishment of his friends.  
  
            [We said it was a new strain … “potion resistant” … and when it comes down to it, who’s going to argue with Dumbledore?] Harry had to admit that it was a stroke of genius to play the ‘Dumbledore says it so it must be true’ card when faced with an illogical premise. No wonder they put Aiya in Slytherin.  
  
            “Harry?” Ron waved a hand in front of his friend’s face, bringing Harry’s attention back to his two friends.  
  
            “Sorry, guess I’m still a little out of it.” His stomach gave a loud growl and they all laughed. “Err, and a bit hungry, too.” He followed Ron and Hermione to where they were sitting at the table and plopped down, smiling and saying hello to all the familiar faces, but as soon as there was food on his plate Harry wasn’t much for conversation. He felt like he’d gone years without eating.  
  
            “Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron stared as Harry devoured his first plate in only a few minutes and started scooping up another helping of everything within reach. “You’re going to make yourself sick again if you keep that up.”  
  
            “Look who’s talking,” Seamus said with a grin, dodging the roll Ron threw at him. Only Hermione looked unamused by the scene, still watching Harry with a mixture of suspicion and worry. She waited until the others started to talk about Quidditch before she leaned across the table.  
  
            “What happened this summer?” she whispered.  
  
            Harry paused mid-chew, knowing he must look incredibly guilty as he tried to think of something to say that would placate Hermione. He took advantage of the fact that his mouth was full of food and chewed slowly. Maybe if he feigned innocence, Hermione would just drop it? _Fat chance_ , he thought, swallowing painfully. “Not much. It was pretty boring, actually, until I got sick. Why?”  
  
            Hermione frowned and Harry knew he was in trouble. “You’re a horrible liar, Harry. I mean, look at you … your hair … your eyes,” she lowered her voice even more, speaking in such hushed tones that even Harry had to strain to hear her. “Harry, your eyes keep changing color.”  
  
            Harry shrugged casually. “It’s a spell – uhh, Tonks showed it to me. And as for my hair, I just decided to grow it out. So what?”  
  
            “ _Something_ has changed,” Hermione persisted, talking in her normal voice now. “And I’m not the only one noticing. You’ve been too busy feeding your face to realize it, but half the student population has been checking you out this whole time.”  
  
            Harry looked over his shoulder, surprised to see that Hermione was telling the truth. People were openly staring at him; he hadn’t felt so conspicuous since his first year at Hogwarts. Suppressing his rising panic, he plastered on a grin and turned back to Hermione, picking up his glass of pumpkin juice. “Only half? Is that all?”  
  
            “Yeah, well, the other half is checking out the new professor,” Ron said around a mouthful of potatoes.  
  
            “She looks too young to be a professor,” Dean said, “but maybe she’s the only one they could find who’d take the job. Do you think she knows the Defence Against the Dark Arts position is jinxed?”  
  
            “She should be more worried about Snape.” Everyone, including Harry, followed Ron’s gaze up to the head table where Aiya and Snape looked to be having a rather one-sided conversation, Aiya chatting animatedly while the Potions professor scowled at her in silence. “He looks like he’s about to jinx her himself.”  
  
            Harry felt the heat rising in his cheeks as he watched Snape make some off-hand comment that had Aiya rolling her eyes and turning back to Professor Sprout, leaving Snape free to turn his piercing black gaze on Harry. The scowl dissolved from his expression, replaced by a glimmer of amusement as he held Harry prisoner with those eyes. The noise of students talking and silverware clinking faded into the background, Harry’s entire world narrowing down to the man watching him from across the room, and suddenly he found himself reliving the intimate memory that had haunted him since first waking in Aiya’s room …  
  
            _– his skin was slick with sweat, his body writhing on the damp sheets as the hand slowly stroked his throbbing erection. He could hear and feel harsh breathing against his ear, then the sensation of teeth grazing down the side of his neck, lips sucking at the pale skin of his throat, the rasp of a wet tongue along his jawline, and all the while his body thrust eagerly against the hand, his needy moans spurring the fingers to stroke faster until the world exploded in a rush of heat –_  
  
            He dropped his glass of pumpkin juice, spilling it all over himself and his half-eaten plate of food. He stuttered apologies to everyone, so worked up that he started mopping up the mess on the table with his napkin until Hermione took pity on him and used ‘evanesco’ to get rid of the rest. Red-faced and embarrassingly erect under his robes, Harry got up from the table with the excuse that he needed to use the toilet, ignoring the puzzled expressions of his two best friends as he practically ran out of the Great Hall. He stopped to catch his breath in a gloomy alcove near Dumbledore’s office, an unlit secluded spot where he could calm down and drink in the soothing darkness while waiting for his meeting with the Headmaster. He sank down onto the stone bench where the more adventurous trysting couples were known to meet, hoping that no one felt especially frisky on their first night at school since he didn’t want to explain to anyone what he was doing in a notorious make-out spot all by himself.  
  
            [Harry?] Aiya briefly touched his mind, but Harry just wanted to be left alone, so he imagined enclosing himself in that black curtain that not even Aiya’s mind could penetrate, breathing a sigh of relief at the silence.  
  
            _Why? Why am I feeling this way about him?_ Harry closed his eyes, trying to will away his erection by thinking of any number of nasty images – the worst, and therefore most successful, being of Dudley in a speedo – but every time he thought he had the problem under control, he would think of Snape’s hand slipping into his pajama bottoms or hear that dark, velvety voice groaning in his ear, and he’d be right back where he started. It was a torture worse than Cruciatus and he eventually gave up fighting it, losing himself in his fantasies as he opened his juice-stained robes and rubbed his hand over the prominent bulge in his trousers. He didn’t hear the footsteps that approached his hiding place, nor did he notice when they paused outside the alcove. As such, he was totally oblivious to the fact that he was no longer alone until long fingers caught his chin in a punishing grip, forcing his head back as his eyes flew open in surprise.  
  
            “What are you doing lurking in the shadows, Potter?” was the question posed to him by the very man he’d been fantasizing about, but Harry had no doubt that Snape knew exactly what his student had been doing, especially since Harry’s hand hadn’t moved from where he’d been touching himself.  
  
            “I needed … some air,” Harry glossed over the truth, “and now I’m just waiting for my meeting with the Headmaster.”  
  
            “And this,” Snape looked down at Harry’s crotch, using his free hand to pull Harry’s fingers away and allow him a clear view of the bulge in Harry’s trousers, “is how you decided to pass the time until then?”  
  
            Harry felt himself grow impossibly harder at being studied so intently by his professor. His ‘new and improved’ vision gave Harry the advantage of seeing perfectly in the dark, and he wanted to believe that Snape was forced to rely on the far-off glow of torchlight from beyond the alcove’s entrance to see anything … but that knowing, predatory expression on the man’s face suggested to Harry that there was nothing impairing Snape’s vision at the moment. He felt helpless to answer his teacher’s question, his eyes glowing a dark bluish-green as he struggled to get his breathing under control.  
  
            “Answer me, Potter.” Snape tightened his grip on Harry’s chin, hard enough to bruise, and Harry shivered in response. It seemed like the rougher Snape treated him, the harder Harry got, and finally the emotional turmoil became too much for Harry to deal with calmly as he lashed out at the man who had brought so much tension and confusion into his already tumultuous existence.  
  
            “Yes, but it’s your fault,” Harry snapped, jerking his chin free of Snape’s grasp.  
  
            “So quick to place the blame on someone else," Snape replied coldly, but the fingers that moved to cup Harry’s cheek were warm. “And after all I did to help you. I should have known better than to expect gratitude from you.” The hand fell away and Harry thought for a moment that he’d earned a reprieve, but then his wand was snatched up from the bench where he’d left it and he watched Snape tuck it away inside his robe.  
  
            “You proved to me last year that you actually have some brains,” Snape continued as if nothing unusual had occurred. It was true, Harry had done much better in 6th year Potions. Hermione had called it a sign that Harry was maturing, Ron had called it a ‘bloody miracle.’ “You’re a quick study, Potter, given the right environment. All it takes is one demonstration and I’ve seen you mimic exactly what you’ve seen. Shall we test that theory now?”  
  
            Harry frowned. Was this a pop quiz or something? “Really, Professor, I – ”  
  
            “Undo your trousers,” was Snape's calm, clipped order.  
  
             “Excuse me?” Whatever control Harry had gained over his traitorous body withered away in the face of such an alarming … yet arousing … command. He couldn’t even summon the will to get angry at what was no doubt an attempt to humiliate Harry further because it took all his strength just to resist the urge to blindly obey.  
  
            “Your trousers, Potter. They’re in the way.” Snape had tucked his own wand away along with Harry’s, and now stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the stone wall of the alcove. His hawkish profile was as stern and unyielding as ever, but the dispassionate stare he leveled at Harry flickered now and again with heat and hunger before his emotions were locked away once more.  
  
            Harry knew he should run. Or escape into the shadows that were curling around his body protectively, sensing his distress. Or even laugh in Snape’s face as if the whole thing was one big joke. But he couldn’t do any of those things, and honestly, he didn’t want to. His first instinct, the one that Aiya told him he could trust, was to surrender to the whims of his once-hated professor – all he needed was the courage to follow that instinct, and he had that in spades. He was a Gryffindor, after all; courage had never been a quality he lacked. Still, his hands shook as he unfastened and unzipped his trousers, and his bravery did not extend to looking his professor in the eyes.  
  
            “Push them down to your knees. Underwear, too.”  
  
            Harry swallowed nervously but did as he was told, wiggling a little as he slid his trousers and boxers down over his hips and past his thighs, gasping at the feel of cold stone on his bare ass. His freed erection jutted proudly from a nest of black curls, a drop of milky precum glistening on the tip.  
  
            “You surprise me, Potter,” Snape said in a husky voice laced with amusement. “I never knew you could be so obedient. How very promising.”  
  
            Harry didn’t know whether to be pleased or humiliated by such taunting praise, but he soon settled on annoyed and risked a glare at his professor. The years of warring with this man had armed him with an arsenal of insults and insinuations that the old Harry wouldn’t have hesitated to use, but the new Harry didn’t trust anything harsher than a plaintive moan to come out once he opened his mouth, so he kept quiet. His panting breaths and dilated eyes spoke volumes of his true state of mind, and no defensive outbursts could fully disguise his desire now.  
  
            “Nothing to say?” Snape pushed away from the wall, taking slow steps towards Harry. He moved with the menacing, measured gait of a jungle cat stalking its prey, his eyes two obsidian flames made even darker by the contrast of his pale skin. “No insolent retorts? No juvenile slurs?” He stopped right in front of Harry, his robes brushing against Harry’s legs. He didn’t sound as if he was fully convinced of Harry’s submissiveness, and he forced Harry to meet his gaze squarely before he smirked and nodded. “Very well, then. I want you to remember every detail of how my hand touched you yesterday … and I want you to show me what you learned.”  
  
            Harry’s mouth dropped open in shock, his eyes shifting from mossy green to aquamarine then back to mossy. Snape wanted him to masturbate? Right here? _In front of him_? He suddenly felt extremely shy around Snape, regardless that this was a man who had jerked him off less than twenty-four hours ago. He curled his fingers around his twitching cock, but it just felt wrong to him and he yanked his hand away, squeezing his eyes shut against the childish tears that threatened to fall. Compared to the heat and passion of his feverish memories, this interaction seemed so cold and impersonal, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to go through with it. He hated how weak his voice sounded as he choked out, “I – I can’t .. I just can’t.”  
  
            Suddenly he felt a body joining him on the bench and he was pulled onto his professor’s lap, one strong arm wrapping around his waist and trapping him back against Snape’s chest while  his free hand rubbed calming circles over Harry’s upper thigh. “So spoiled,” Snape murmured in his ear, and Harry moaned as he was surrounded by the man’s familiar scent. “I promised myself I would never coddle you like the others do, but it appears that my resolve is not as strong as it used to be.” He took his hand away from Harry’s thigh to grasp his wrist, bringing the reluctant hand back to Harry’s weeping erection that begged for release. “Now, show me what you’ve learned. Show me how my hand touched you …”  
  
            Being held and having that close contact made all the difference, heat flooding Harry’s skin as he felt the first surge of that strange, wild power from before begin to take over his body. He didn’t know what caused it or where it came from, but he did know that the only time he felt it was when he was with Snape. The shadows clinging to his body trembled and dispersed as that power awakened, but Harry didn’t give it another thought as he started to stroke himself, timidly at first, then with the same firm, steady rhythm from his memory.  
  
            “Very good,” Snape said softly. He took his hand off Harry’s wrist and slid it up the younger man’s toned body, long fingers sliding under Harry’s shirt and exploring the smooth skin of his chest. Harry could feel his professor’s own sizeable, cloth-covered erection pressing against his bottom, prompting him to grind experimentally into Snape’s lap. The action drew a hiss of pleasure from the professor and a loud groan from Harry himself. “Careful, Potter,” Snape warned, his voice no longer cold and controlled, but ragged with desire. “You wouldn’t want anyone to hear you. What would all your Gryffindor friends think if they saw you in my arms like this?”  
  
            Frankly, Harry didn’t give a damn what anyone might think, Gryffindors or otherwise. For now he was too caught up in the pleasure of jerking off with Snape’s sexy voice purring in his ear to care whether they were caught or not. He rested his head back against his teacher’s shoulder, heat radiating off his body in waves, his dark hair sticking wetly to his forehead from the sweat beading his skin.  
  
            “You were certainly the center of attention tonight,” Snape carried on without waiting for an answer, his fingers pinching and pulling first one nipple, then the other, eliciting a whimper from Harry with each clever twist. “All of those eyes focused on you – did it excite you?”  
  
            “N-no,” Harry forced out between clenched teeth, his fingers sliding faster and faster along the length of his arousal, his stamina quickly approaching its limit.  
  
            “But you did get excited.” He covered Harry’s hand with his own, slowing the frantic strokes until Harry was gasping and bucking his hips in a desperate attempt at friction. “Didn’t you.”  
  
            “That was because – ” _I thought of you_ , Harry was going to say, but he froze into silence at the sound of footsteps and quiet chatter coming down the hall that passed the alcove. The feast had ended and now the students were going to their respective dormitories. The very real risk of being caught finally sank in; Harry tried to scramble out of Snape’s lap but the man held him firmly in place.  
  
            “I’m not done with you yet, Potter,” he said, fully replacing Harry’s hand with his own and setting a merciless pace. “As long as you’re quiet, they’ll never even know we’re here.”  
  
            Harry bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle his moans, tasting blood as his teeth tore at the sensitive flesh. As if from far away, he could hear the group of students passing by the hidden nook, their laughter and the rustle of their robes barely a distraction from the way his teacher’s hand was skillfully fisting his cock. He reached back to dig his fingers into Snape’s hips, giving himself the leverage needed to thrust up into that hand.  
  
            “I’ve tried to deny this for a long time,” that deliciously dark voice whispered in his ear, “but when you begged me not to leave you yesterday I knew it was useless to fight it anymore. You’re _mine_ , Harry,” the sound of his name on Snape’s lips sent Harry over the edge and he exploded into climax, spurting his release all over Snape's hand as he milked each and every twitching aftershock from Harry’s softening penis.  
  
            _What just happened?_ a dazed Harry thought to himself as his breathing slowly returned to normal. He was dimly aware of Snape using his wand to clean the both of them, then helping Harry fix his clothing, but the reality of it all didn’t sink in until he felt Snape stand them both up, turn Harry around, and kiss him roughly. When he pulled away, his mouth was slightly stained with the blood from Harry’s wounded lip.  
  
            “I can’t believe I’m proving her right. I must be losing my mind,” Snape muttered to himself, then he skewered Harry with a razor-sharp glare. “It is entirely too dangerous for you to go wandering about the castle by yourself at night,” he said, sounding more like the surly professor to which Harry was accustomed, but in the black depths of his eyes Harry could see a glint of unnamed emotion … something like pain, but deeper. “There are some aspects of being a Mori that cannot be disguised, as you discovered during the feast. People will be drawn to you, and some of them might – ” he bit off what he was going to say, looking away for a moment before he pulled Harry’s wand out from inside his robes and handed it back to him. He grasped Harry’s wrist in his other hand and waited until their eyes met before he said forcibly, “Don’t let anyone else touch you.”  
  
            Harry nodded wordlessly, still awash in a sea of confusion. His professor that he thought hated him was now acting possessive and overprotective? Sure, the man gave him some great orgasms, but what about all those years of constant bickering and dislike? Had all that anger and resentment between the two of them just evolved over the years into this sexual tension? No, there had to be something more to it than that.  
  
            “Professor? Err, I mean … sir?” Harry was at a loss when it came to addressing the man now. It felt a little kinky to speak so formally to the man who’d just made him come.  
  
            A hint of the usual mocking smile curled at the corners of Snape's mouth as he realized Harry's dilemma. “Severus is fine, in private.”  
  
            “Severus.” Just speaking that name aloud gave Harry a thrill of the forbidden. “I … I don’t really understand – ”  
  
            “No, I don’t suppose you do,” Severus said, falling back into the role of the cold, emotionless Potions professor. “But explanations will have to wait. Stay here for another minute or so, then proceed to the Headmaster’s office. The password is licorice snap.” He started to turn away but changed his mind, pulling Harry flush against him as he pressed another bruising kiss to his mouth. Then he pushed him away and walked out of the alcove, leaving behind a breathless and bewildered Harry.

 


	8. In The Headmaster's Office

  
         “Now that we are all assembled,” Dumbledore looked around at the visitors in his office, Harry sitting with Aiya and Sirius in front of the Headmaster's desk while Snape stood apart from the group, off to Dumbledore's right, “I think we should begin our discussion by determining what training Harry needs to commit to during his final year. Professor Graham has already requested that Harry spend a portion of his weekends with her in order to better instruct him in the ways of the Mori. Is that acceptable for you, Harry?”  
  
         Harry couldn't believe they were actually asking him for his input. “Uh, well ... that's fine.”  
  
         “Don't sound so excited,” Aiya said with a grin.  
  
         “How will you explain Harry spending so much time with her?” Sirius asked. He'd been cooped up inside Dumbledore's office since Aiya had brought him in his dog form to Hogwarts, and there was an aura of pent-up energy about him.  
  
         “Advanced training in Defence Against the Dark Arts, ” Aiya said. “No one would think it strange for Harry to need more knowledge of that subject than the average student.”  
  
         “I think we should consider re-establishing his Occlumency lessons as well,” Dumbledore added. “What do you think, Harry? Professor Graham says you are already showing great promise as an Occlumens, but simply having the potential is not enough.”  
  
         Harry glanced at Severus, but the man's expression was blank. No matter what had happened between them in the darkness, Harry found himself doubting that Severus would want to try and tutor him again after the way Harry invaded his privacy in his fifth year. “How would I ... I mean, who would teach me? Aiya?”  
  
         “It wouldn't work, Harry. The Mori are all connected at a telepathic level, and the very bonds that allow us to communicate so freely with each other also make it easier for us to shut each other out. You've blocked me once already without even trying, remember?”  
  
         Yes, Harry certainly remembered enclosing himself in that dark curtain right before Severus found him in the alcove. _Good thing, too, since the last thing I want is my sister knowing all about the spectacular handjob I just got from my professor,_ Harry thought to himself. For once, Aiya looked as if she hadn't heard Harry's stray thought, and that tiny victory bolstered Harry's confidence.  
  
         “Couldn't you teach him, Albus?” Sirius spoke up.   
  
         “I certainly could,” Dumbledore said with a smile, turning his twinkling blue gaze on Harry, “if that is what he wishes.”  
  
         “I must object,” Severus said before Harry could reply. “You are far too busy with the Order and running this school to concern yourself with tutoring, Albus. As long as Potter shows the proper respect,” his piercing black eyes met Harry's shifting green ones, “he can resume his lessons with me.”  
  
         “The hell he will,” Sirius growled. “My godson isn't going to be spending any more time with you than is necessary.”  
  
         For one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought that Sirius might know about his attraction to Severus, or at least suspect, but he felt a gentle nudge from Aiya who shook her head and smiled reassuringly.   
  
         [Sirius is just acting on old prejudices ... and a concern for you.] He was still partially blocking her so her voice was soft and distant in his mind, but her comforting presence could be felt quite strongly.  
  
         “Now, Sirius,” Dumbledore began, seeking to play the part of peacekeeper ...  
  
         “I'll do it,” Harry interrupted. He knew if he let his godfather and his professor start in on their mutual hatred of each other, then they would be in that office all night and nothing would get done.  
  
         “But Harry,” Sirius protested, shooting a livid glare at a now-smirking Severus before he turned to his godson with a worried expression. “Are you sure? Dumbledore would be the better choice, Harry. If he's offering, you should take it!”  
  
         “No, Professor Snape is right. The Headmaster has too many other things to worry about,” Harry said. He looked down at his hands so he didn't have to see the disappointment in Sirius's eyes. “It was my fault that the lessons stopped in the first place.” He looked up, a determined expression on his face as he met Severus's steely gaze without hesitation. “Thank you for offering me a second chance, sir. I promise to show you the respect you deserve ... but only on the condition that you do the same for me.”  
  
         [That was rather ballsy of you,] Aiya's voice snickered in his mind.  
  
         [Well, it's only fair,] Harry griped, though part of him thought that his added condition might go over better this year than if he had demanded it in previous years.  
  
         “I suppose I could live with that,” was all Severus would say in reply, but there was a vague glimmer of admiration in his eyes at the manner in which Harry had conducted himself.   
  
         “Shall we say three nights a week? Would that be sufficient?” Dumbledore, too, looked pleased that Harry had taken the initiative. “For an hour or so? Nothing too strenuous; Harry has his regular classes to study for as well, after all.”  
  
         Alone with Snape - no, _Severus_ \- for three nights a week? Harry felt a nervous flutter in his stomach, but by all outward appearances he was perfectly stoic. “That sounds reasonable,” he said casually.  
  
         “Well, that's settled then,” Dumbledore said. “Moving on ... I would like to know if you had any visions during the time you were asleep, Harry. That is, did you dream of Voldemort?”  
  
         Off to the side, Severus flinched at the name but said nothing.  
  
         Harry frowned, thinking back to his dreams. _There had been all those memories, and then the people and places he didn't recognize ... yes, and the raven and the panther ... and then ..._  
  
         “I did dream of him,” Harry said slowly, “but I'm not sure if it was real or not. I mean, my scar didn't hurt at all and it wasn't like any vision I've had before.”  
  
         “Hmmm ... nevertheless, tell us about what you saw. It may still be of some help to us, real or imagined.”   
  
         “There was a very old mansion; it looked like it was falling apart. I don't think I've ever seen it before but somehow I knew exactly where to go once I was inside. Voldemort was in a room by himself and a Death Eater walked in. It was a man but he was masked, so I'm not sure who it was. He said that Bellatrix had gone to some village but it was empty when she got there, and that someone must have tipped the people off to Voldemort's plan. Voldemort told the Death Eater to investigate to see if there was a spy. That was it, really.” Harry paused, thinking again about what had happened at the end of his dream, and then he laughed out loud.  
  
         “What's so funny?” Sirius asked, puzzled by Harry's laughter.  
  
         “It's just - at the end - I realized my scar - and I thought - how great - that bastard's head - instead of mine - and then it did - and oh, it was _brilliant_ ,” Harry tried to tell the story between fits of laughter but the words came out disjointed. Just remembering Voldemort's expression at that moment, as if someone had shoved a spear through his temple, kept Harry laughing until tears were running down his face.  
  
         Severus sighed his frustration and turned to Aiya, quirking a brow, “Care to translate that?”  
  
         Aiya grinned. “It seems that when Harry realized his scar didn't hurt, he thought how great it would be if, for once, Voldemort was the one who had the blinding pain in his head instead of Harry. And then it happened, just like he'd imagined.”  
  
         Severus's mask of icy calm slipped and he stared at Harry in shock.   
  
         Harry's belly laughs had calmed now to occasional chuckles as he wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe. “I remember actually thinking, 'You should get the headache this time, you evil bastard' and he _did_. I guess that's why I decided it was just a dream and nothing real.”  
  
         “On the contrary, Harry, I think it was very real.” Dumbledore steepled his hands underneath his chin, something like triumph dancing in his bright, blue eyes.   
  
         “Then Voldemort really was after a whole village of people?” Harry couldn't understand why Voldemort would lay low for so long only to move against an entire group of people. Why spend so much time keeping the Aurors guessing and lulling the wizarding world into a false sense of security, then attack some village out of nowhere? It just didn't seem like something Voldemort would do. “But if an entire village disappeared, wouldn't we know about it? There wasn't anything about an evacuation in the Daily Prophet.“  
  
         “That's because the village in question doesn't exist,” Aiya said. “At least, as far as the wizarding world knows, it doesn't. It's a protected settlement of Mori, or rather, it used to be. Mostly Warsongs and Darkshines lived there.”  
  
         “So how did Voldemort know about it, then? And why is he after the Mori?”   
  
         “Because the Mori have a history of being used in battle, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Our Aurors would be at a disadvantage if they were fighting Death Eaters protected by Mori shields. Aurors would be forced to destroy the Mori before they could even begin to fight the Death Eaters.”  
  
         Harry hadn't realized how bleak an existence it must have been for the Mori as living shields in ancient wizarding times, and he totally agreed with their decision to abandon the wizarding world. Yet, Aiya had come back, _and_ she'd made Harry a part of her bloodline. “So the Mori have decided to join our side?”  
  
         “The Mori refuse to join any side, Harry.” Aiya said softly, her expression one of sadness and perhaps shame.  
  
         “They can hardly ask to join with us when the Aurors would sooner stun them than talk to them. It is unacceptable to ask them to put their lives on the line for the wizarding world that has shown them nothing but contempt.” Severus surprised everyone with his bitter comments defending the Mori, though Harry noticed that Aiya's eyes were bright and shiny with unshed tears, and a small smile curved her lips.   
  
         “I am afraid Professor Snape is right, Harry. Only the heir of the Evernight bloodline has offered us her help, as a way to repay an old debt.” Dumbledore smiled fondly at Aiya.  
  
         “Not only for the debt.” Aiya brushed a lock of dark hair from Harry's forehead, her features softened by a wistful expression. “My path has always been known to me ... many things the spirits revealed to me as a child, including - ” she ruffled Harry's hair teasingly, snapping out of her dreamy state and becoming the familiar, upbeat Aiya once more. “ - including my part in this war. Still, I was surprised when I learned of the plans to attack that village. Apparently, he has been secretly searching for signs of the Mori since shortly after his return. I knew Voldemort posed a threat to the human world, but I had not foreseen the danger to my people.”  
  
         “ _Our_ people,” Harry corrected her absently, still trying to keep everything straight in his mind that he'd heard so far while simultaneously pondering Aiya's habit of starting to say something only to stop herself and say something else instead. He really hated it when she did that.  
  
         Aiya beamed. “Yes, _our_ people.”  
  
         “Then I take it you're the one who told the Mori about Voldemort's plans?” Harry looked at Severus, ignoring the slight shiver of awareness that danced up his spine as those pitch-black eyes met his gaze.  
  
         “I told Aiya, yes.”   
  
         “And then I told Kreacher and sent him off to warn the others.” Aiya spoke as if she were ending a long, drawn-out tale with an unspoken 'and they lived happily ever after' trailing along in the silence.  
  
         “KREACHER?” Both Harry and Sirius shouted this at the same time in twin tones of incredulity.  
  
         “Was that a safe thing to do?” Harry asked tactfully, just as Sirius blurted out, “Damn it, Aiya, that was dumb.”  
  
         Harry ducked the arm that swung out over his head at his godfather, hearing the corresponding smack of Aiya's hand against the back of Sirius's head.  
  
         “Ouch! Aiya, that hurt!”  
  
         “As if anything could damage that thick skull of yours,” Aiya seethed, and Harry was suddenly reminded of Ron and Hermione during one of their little spats.  
  
         Dumbledore winked at Harry, then said, “I believe we can safely say Aiya's trust in Kreacher was not misplaced, as the Mori were adequately warned and moved to safety before Voldemort could implement his plan. You forget, Sirius, that the Mori and the house-elves once shared a position of servitude in the wizarding world. House-elves are quite fond of their Mori cousins.”  
  
         “Though they think we're all insane for wanting to be free,” Aiya added, calmer now. Sirius was still rubbing the back of his head and sulking, muttering something about crazy women and their hair-trigger tempers.  
  
         “Well, then,” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, looking very satisfied. “After hearing of your dream, Harry, I believe you may be making progress against Voldemort's intrusions into your mind.”  
  
         Harry nodded earnestly, a small part of him fiendishly pleased that it had been a real vision after all and Voldemort really had suffered a headache like the ones Harry had endured. _Though it doesn't really make up for all the times my scar burned just because that bastard was pissed off,_ Harry's mind wandered, and he didn't realize Aiya was speaking to him until suddenly her voice broke into his thoughts.  
  
         [Harry!]   
  
         He turned to her, wide-eyed. “Huh?”  
  
         “Well spoken, Potter,” Severus drawled, though his expression was one of amusement and not outright mockery.  
  
         “I said, 'Have you had any trouble from any of the students?'”  
  
         “Oh.” Harry shrugged. “No. The only trouble I had was from Hermione, but that's because it's so hard to lie to her and get away with it.”  
  
         “You'll be telling her everything soon, anyway, so I guess there's nothing to worry about there,” Aiya said. “You should be fine around the other students. Just keep in mind that as a morion you're giving off a strong magical aura. It's bound to draw people to you, sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad ways. In the same vein, there may be people who were your friends before that will suddenly find you unpleasant to be around, and vice versa.”  
  
         “Great,” Harry said sarcastically. “Maybe I'll make friends with Malfoy this year.”  
  
         Aiya visibly flinched, but it seemed only Harry and Severus noticed because Dumbledore began talking to Sirius about how he would be returning to Grimmauld Place that evening. Harry frowned at his sister, letting her feel his concern as he asked, [Aiya, what's wrong?]  
  
         [I'm just tired, Little Brother,] she replied, and true enough Harry could feel the exhaustion in her as if it was his own. In fact, some of it _was_ his own, and he nodded.   
  
         “Yeah, me too,” he said out loud, earning puzzled looks from the other three men in the room. He stood up. “I think I'll head off to bed. The meeting is over, isn't it?”  
  
         “Yes, Harry, you should get some rest.” Dumbledore smiled kindly at him. “We wouldn't want you to be sleeping through your first day of classes, now would we?”  
  
         Sirius jumped to his feet and crushed Harry to him in a bear hug. “Take care, Harry. You'll come to Grimmauld Place for Christmas, won't you?”  
  
         “Of course,“ Harry said with a grin. Aiya hugged him once Sirius let go, telling him not to hesitate to reach out to her if he needed anything. Harry pretended to be annoyed by her fussy mothering, but he secretly enjoyed it. He turned to go, but his eyes met Severus's for an instant and he hesitated. He wanted very much to say something, to acknowledge this _thing_ that was between them, but with Sirius present there wasn't much he could say without World War III erupting in Dumbledore's office, so he just nodded and said politely, “Goodnight to you as well, sir.”  
  
         “Goodnight, Harry,” Severus said in that voice as cold as winter, but it warmed Harry to hear his professor speak his name once again instead of simply 'Potter.' He glanced at Sirius to see if his godfather had noticed but Sirius was being expertly distracted by Aiya. He grinned and nodded again at Severus, then departed the office in search of his bed. 

 


	9. Once A Slytherin, Always A Slytherin

  
         It was turning out to be the worst first day of classes in all of Harry's years at Hogwarts. He woke up sluggish and queasy, a feeling that only increased when he pushed back the curtains surrounding his bed and was greeted with a face-full of sunshine. Everyone else had already been up and dressed, so Harry had to rush around washing up and throwing on whatever clothes were handy. His school robes were all creased and untidy from the way he'd carelessly tossed them aside before going to bed the night before, but at least he'd remembered to clean the dried pumpkin juice stains off of them. By the time he made it to breakfast the meal was almost over, but Harry's appetite was so non-existent that all he could eat was a piece of toast anyway.  
  
         “Harry, I really think you should see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said, a book on Ancient Runes opened in front of her as she hastily scrawled notes in the margins. “Last night you were starving and ate enough for ten people, and now this morning you can barely eat at all. And why did you run out of here last night like that? And why - ”  
  
         “You're going to make his head explode if you keep asking him endless questions like that,” Ron interrupted. He was currently busying himself with a third helping of scrambled eggs. “Really, Harry, you should've heard this one talking last night. Kept going on and on about how much you've changed. Might've made me jealous if I didn't know better.”  
  
         “I haven't changed _that_ much," he said with a grin as he watched the other two finishing their breakfast. "I do have something to tell you both. Later, after classes."

         Hermione looked up with an expression that said, _'A-ha!'_ but Ron just smiled, nodded and finished off his eggs.  
  
         “I wonder if the new professor will be any good?” Hermione forced herself to change the subject even though she obviously wanted to pump Harry for more information.  
  
         “Who cares? She's gorgeous,” Dean said, joining in on the conversation. “She could be as useless as Umbridge and still get my vote for professor of the year.”  
  
         Harry glanced up at the teacher's table where Aiya sat next to Snape. Her hair hung in a loose, silky curtain past her waist, and she looked even younger than usual. _At least she looked like a teacher last night,_ Harry thought. _Now she looks like a student playing dress-up._  
  
         “Only a boy would base a professor's worth on looks,” Hermione said haughtily.  
  
         Ron coughed loudly, inserting the name Lockhart somewhere in the middle.  
  
         Hermione ignored him. “I wonder if she went to Hogwarts?”  
  
         “If she did, she must've been a Gryffindor,” Ron said. Everyone looked at him expectantly, at which point he added, “Well she must be pretty brave to keep talking to Snape like she does.”  
  
         “What do you think, Harry?”  
  
         Harry's gaze had drifted over to watch Severus expertly ignore the chattering morwen on his left, so when he answered Hermione he said the first thing that popped into his head so he could go back to watching Severus eat. “She's a Slytherin.”  
  
         “Slytherin? No way!”  
  
         “Great, a Slytherin teaching us how to defend ourselves against dark wizards? Though I guess it takes one to know one, eh?”  
  
         “Pretty cute for a Slytherin.”  
  
         That last comment came from Ron and earned him an elbow in the ribs from Hermione. She glared at her boyfriend then turned back to Harry. “Why do you say she's a Slytherin, Harry?”  
  
         He shrugged a shoulder, trying to look disinterested in the conversation. “Just guessing, really. We don't even know if she went to Hogwarts in the first place, right? Maybe she went to Beauxbatons or somewhere else.”  
  
         “I say one of us asks her during class,” Seamus said. He took a quick look around the table, his gaze stopping on Hermione. “And who better to interrogate the teacher than our own Miss Granger? What do you say, Hermione?”  
  
         Hermione rolled her eyes. “I say find someone else to do your dirty work for you.”  
  
         “Who better to do dirty work than a mudblood?” The group of Gryffindors turned to glare at Draco as he and the usual Slytherin thugs sneered back. Most of the students were going off to their first classes and it just happened that the Slytherin seventh years had been walking past the Gryffindors on their way out.  
  
         “Sod off, Malfoy,” Ron said angrily.  
  
         Draco smirked, clearly unimpressed by Ron's show of temper. Harry took a good look at his longtime rival for the first time since the school year began. Since he hadn't taken the train, he'd missed the usual preliminary session of insults and hexes that passed between his group and Draco's group. _He looks thinner this year_ , Harry thought. His Mori eyesight didn't detect anything else unusual about Draco; he had the same pale, pointed face and every white-blonde hair was perfectly in place, a touch of frost in his gray eyes and a sneer permanently plastered on his lips ... though at times, to Harry's eyes it seemed as if the air around Draco seemed to shimmer, like heat rising off the desert.  
  
         He shook himself out of his observations just in time to see Ron leap out of his seat and take a swing at Draco's face. Apparently the fight had been escalating during Harry's analysis of his enemy. He sprang to his feet, intending to step in and separate the two, when both Ron and Draco froze in place, Ron's fist drawn back as he prepared to strike while Draco was reaching for his wand.  
  
         “Fighting on the first day of classes?” Aiya's sweet, sultry voice silenced both groups as she approached them. The other teachers looked content to let the newest staff member handle the altercation as they finished breakfast and went to prepare for their own classes. Harry didn't fail to notice that Severus took the longest to leave, his dark gaze roaming over both groups of students as he walked out of the Great Hall, but more often than not his eyes were focused on Harry. Left to her own devices, Aiya circled the two immobilized students, smiling that disturbingly wicked smile that never failed to send chills up Harry's spine.  
  
         “Malfoy started it,” Seamus piped up, proving his Gryffindor bravery. No one else dared to speak as Aiya turned her lavender gaze on Draco, something flickering in the depths of her eyes as she studied the scowling young man. Harry felt something ... pity? sadness? ... flare out from his sister before she quickly smothered her feelings, glancing for a split second at Harry then back at Draco.  
  
         “Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Malfoy?” Aiya waved her hand and Draco was released from the invisible restraints placed upon him. There was a murmur from the surrounding students, all of them interested to see magic performed that was both wandless and silent, and quite effortlessly at that. It might not have been such a big deal from someone like Dumbledore, but when the professor looked only a few years older than themselves, it caught their attention.  
  
         “Weasley took the first swing,” Draco said cooly, looking the least perturbed of all the gathered students though there was a twitch in his right hand every so often that Harry took for a nervous tick.  
  
         Another wave of her hand and Ron unfroze, the redhead not even waiting to be asked for his side of the story as he defended his actions, “I got sick of him insulting Hermione when obviously she's got more brains and talent than him and his whole Death Eater family put together.”  
  
         Draco narrowed his eyes to two slits of icy gray, but that was the only outward sign that Ron's words had affected him at all.  
  
         “Five points from Slytherin,” Aiya said, ignoring the transfer of Draco's cold glare from Ron to herself, “and five points from Gryffindor for fighting. Really, boys, shouldn't you have outgrown all of this by now?”  
  
         And having diffused the situation, at least for the moment, Aiya swept out of the Great Hall and left behind one fuming Slytherin, one amused morion, and several amazed students.  
  
         Seamus had the look of someone who has had his head in the lion's mouth and lived to tell about it. He quickly recovered, grinning broadly. “Did you see that? No wand, no spell ... nothing!”  
  
         [I'm impressed.] Harry told her as he watched Aiya leave.  
  
         [Don't be. That's about the limit of my silent spells - I only bothered to practice the ones that disarm my opponent. I let the shadows do the rest.]  
  
         Harry shuddered, getting a mental picture of Kingsley desperately clawing at the shadows covering his face. Yes, he'd seen what Aiya was capable of when forced to fight. Aiya let her presence touch his mind once more in farewell and then faded away.  
  
         “Let's go, Draco. We're going to be late for class,” Pansy Parkinson was tugging at Draco's arm but he stood there, pale and silent, staring after the departing teacher, his eyes still narrowed but no longer icy with anger. It took a few more tugs at his sleeve before Draco composed himself and walked with the other Slytherins off to their classes, but not without a last rude gesture at the Gryffindors.  
  
         “That prat gets worse every year,” Ron growled as he grabbed his bag of books.  
  
         “Odds aren't in favor of your guess, Harry,” Dean said as the small group gathered their things and left the Great Hall together.  
  
         Harry blinked. “Huh?”  
  
         “About Professor Graham being a Slytherin.”  
  
         “Why's that?”  
  
         “She took away Slytherin points. That lot isn't exactly impartial when it comes to their own House, right?”  
  
         "That's for sure,” Ron said, his shoulders tense and his voice full of contempt. “Those snakes stick together. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin.”  
  


                                                                           *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

  


         Harry felt progressively worse as the morning wore on. The classrooms for Transfiguration and Charms seemed to be flooded with sunlight, and Harry inevitably ended up in a seat that boasted its own merry sunbeam shining right in his eyes. By the time lunch rolled around he could do little but sip cold water and try not to watch his friends eat. He felt someone's eyes on him throughout the meal - Aiya?  Severus? - but he kept his head down and his mind firmly under lock and key. He was too miserable to deal with either of them at the moment; it was bad enough dealing with Ron and Hermione's questions of 'Are you alright?' and 'Do you think maybe it's a relapse?'  
  
         Defence Against the Dark Arts came right after lunch. Harry considered asking Aiya to please let him sleep through it, as he had Potions directly afterwards and he was worried that in his current state he might make a fatal mistake and blow himself up. As soon as he walked into the classroom, he felt instant relief. The windows were shuttered, the room lit with the soft glow of torches, and cool, refreshing shadows clung to him right away. The drowsy, queasy feeling disappeared and he suddenly realized just how hungry he was.  
  
         _This is going to take some getting used to_ , he sighed wearily to himself. Shooing most of the shadows away with a subtle wave of his hand, he kept one curled around his arm to keep him alert, the dark entity blending in perfectly with his black robes.  
  
         “This is an accelerated class with a high emphasis on practical training,” Aiya began, perched on top of her desk, her crimson-tipped hair now pulled back from her face in one long braid down her back. “You were each hand-picked according to your 6th year exams and upon the recommendation of your Head of House.”  
  
         Harry glanced around, noticing that there were more Gryffindors and Ravenclaws than anyone else, though a few Hufflepuffs had found their way in as well. And then there was the lone Slytherin sitting in the back of the classroom, gray eyes intent on the professor.  
  
         “Many of you in this class have expressed an interest in specialized careers that take a high level of skill in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Aiya continued. “That is the main reason the school is providing dual seventh year classes, a less intensive one leaning more towards theory and the other - your class - dwelling heavily on the practical side. I wager there are a lot of would-be aurors in here.” Her bright smile coaxed a similar expression from most of the other students.  
  
         It turned out to be a rather light lesson where Aiya tested each of them separately to see where they were in terms of silent spells or how well they could block the more advanced hexes, a general review of things they had learned in sixth year. Harry noticed his sister acted very distant with him, saying only what was necessary, something that grated on his nerves when he saw how she gushed over Hermione or, to his horror, praised Draco. She paid special attention to Draco, spending more time with him than any other student, and by the end of class Harry was beginning to think Ron was right.  
  
         [Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin.] He didn't realize he'd projected the bitter phrase until he saw Aiya glance at him sharply, a puzzled expression on her face. Giving him a look that promised an interrogation later, she turned back to helping Seamus perfect his silent disarming spell, and Harry turned to Ron and Hermione.  
  
         “So what do you think?” he whispered to them, nodding his head towards Aiya.  
  
         “Definite improvement over Umbridge,” Hermione said, “and certainly more approachable than last year's selection,” referring to the morose professor who'd taught the class during their sixth year but had left to study Erklings in their natural habitat.  
  
         “Not as good as Lupin,” Ron said, firmly loyal to Remus, the best DADA professor they'd had, “but she seems to know her stuff. Of course, she also told Malfoy he has talent, but nobody's perfect.”  
  
         Harry smirked, glad to know that he wasn't the only one who noticed Aiya's treatment of Draco. _She must just have a soft spot for a fellow Slytherin_ , he told himself. Having already been tested, the three friends spent the last few minutes of the class chatting about their other classes and the much dreaded Potions class still to come. Harry thanked every benevolent deity he could think of that the class was held in the dungeons, which were dimly lit and crawling with shadows.  
  
         “Well, that's all for today,” Aiya said as the class ended and the students filed out of the room. She gave Harry a mental hug as he left, though he could tell she was still curious about what he'd unknowingly pressed into her mind earlier. He paused in the corridor, thinking maybe he should go back and explain.  
  
         “You two go on ahead. I left something back in the room,” he told his friends.  
  
         “Alright, but hurry,” Hermione said. “Ron already lost us five points, don't you make it worse by being late to Professor Snape's class.”  
  
         “Hey! I lost those points defending your honor!” Ron protested as Hermione dragged him down the hall.  
  
         Harry shook his head and grinned, quickly doubling back to the classroom to get a chance to talk with Aiya before her next class. He was just about to walk in when he heard a familiar voice. He peeked into the room, drawing a shadow around him for extra concealment as he spied on his sister and the student talking with her.  
  
         “I can't ask anyone else,” Draco said, standing in front of Aiya's desk. There was a note of desperation in the young man's voice, a lack of bravado in his posture that made Harry wonder if this was the same Draco he knew.  
  
         “Have you talked to your Head of House?” Aiya's voice was calm but Harry could sense her hidden panic, rousing his protective instincts. What could Draco possibly have asked Aiya that would frighten her?  
  
         “ _I_. _Can't_.” Draco practically hissed the two words. “He is - well, there are complications and I can't risk him finding out.”  
  
         Aiya looked torn, her eyes shifting slowly from a bright violet to a paler color, almost lilac. Draco took advantage of her hesitance and pressed his case even further, reaching out to grasp her wrist and force her gaze back at him. “Two nights a week, Professor, that's all I'm asking.”  
  
         Harry had never seen Draco so unhinged. What was he asking Aiya to do? And why did it need to be kept secret from Severus? _Just tell him to go to hell and be done with it_ , Harry thought silently, though he didn't dare project the thoughts to his sister like he wanted to. He doubted she'd be happy with him for eavesdropping like this.  
  
         Aiya wrenched her hand out of Draco's grasp. “I .... yes, fine. But only two nights, and they can't be on the weekend.”  
  
         Harry groaned silently. Now Aiya was doing Draco favors?? He didn't stick around to hear anything else; he was already late to Potions and he doubted Severus would show him any mercy just because they'd fooled around once or twice. In fact, he still wasn't sure just exactly what there was between the two of them. He had an Occlumency lesson that night ... maybe he could find out then.

 


	10. Dragon's Tears

 

  
       “You’re late, Mr. Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor.”   
  
       Harry sighed and sat down at the only empty desk, right at the front of the room. It took him a moment to calculate that the only other empty chair was right beside his, which meant that …  
         
       “Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I trust there is a reason behind your tardiness.” Severus folded his arms over his chest as Draco walked into the room less than a minute after Harry.  
  
       Harry glared at Severus. Why did Draco get a chance to explain himself when Harry had been summarily punished? This Slytherin favoritism thing was going a little too far. At least from Severus it was somewhat expected, but still …  
  
 _See if I let you kiss me again, stupid git_ , Harry sulked silently.  
  
         “I have a note from Professor Graham,” Draco said, handing over a slip of parchment to Severus and looking at him expectantly, his expression confident and untroubled, very unlike the Draco who had sounded so desperate in Aiya’s classroom.  
  
         Severus narrowed his eyes and snatched the note from Draco, scanning it quickly before he crumpled up the parchment in his hand and nodded. “Very well. Take your seat.” He gestured to the only empty place left, at the same workspace as Harry. The two rivals glared at each other as Draco sat down.  
  
         “Do try not to blow me up today, Potter,” Draco said quietly with a smirk of superiority.   
  
         “If I want you gone, Malfoy,” Harry hissed under his breath, his mood growing darker and darker by the minute, evidenced by the shifting of his eyes to a deep jade, “I’ll choose a far slower and more painful way of doing it.”  
  
         Draco’s eyes widened every so slightly, as if he were seeing Harry for the first time. Any shock he may have felt was quickly buried beneath his customary sneer, but his biting retort was cut off as Severus started class.   
  
         “The potion you will prepare today is commonly referred to as _Dragon's Tears_. What are the two uses of this potion?”  
  
         Harry forced down his anger even as he saw Hermione’s hand shoot up off to his right. If he was going to make it through this class, he needed to calm down and not let Draco get the best of him. The only positive side of his foul mood was that it was easier to look at Severus, since he was imagining strangling the man instead of snogging him. He didn’t even flinch when his professor’s inky stare landed on him.  
  
         “Potter?” Severus raised a single black brow, and Harry’s temper shot up another notch. _How the hell should I know?_ his look seemed to say as he stared right back at his professor, but Severus wasn’t letting him off the hook.  
  
         _Dragon's Tears, Dragon's Tears_ , Harry repeated over and over in his mind, finally deciding that to guess would be better than to just sit there like an idiot. “To cure burns caused by dragon's fire?”  
  
         “So close, Potter, and yet, as always, you fall short.” Severus gestured with a sigh at Hermione, who was the only student with a hand in the air. “Fine, Miss Granger.”  
  
         “ _Dragon's Tears_ is used by some dragon handlers to quench dragon fire and can also be used to fireproof garments that are resistant to charms, mostly garments made from the hides of certain magical creatures.”  
  
         “And why, Miss Granger, is it impossible for this potion to be used to cure burns as Mr. Potter suggested?”  
  
         Hermione sent an apologetic glance towards Harry, then answered, “Because among other toxic ingredients, the potion calls for a combination of foxglove, wormwood, and night-blooming jasmine that could be fatal to the wizard or witch that drinks it.”  
  
         Severus smiled cruelly at Harry, as if pleased by the fury that was blazing in the jade of his student’s eyes. He did not, however, follow up his self-satisfied expression with a cutting remark as he usually did. Instead, he waved his wand at the chalkboard behind him, revealing the potion’s ingredients and the instructions on how to make it. “ _Dragon's Tears_ requires every measurement to be exact and every instruction to be followed to the letter, or the results will be utterly useless. You have ninety minutes.” _  
  
He’ll probably make me test mine by pouring it on my robes then setting me on fire,_ Harry thought bitterly, confirming to himself that this was indeed the worst first day of classes he’d ever experienced. That restless, unexplainable energy was building up inside of him again, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he was mad or because of Severus or both. It grew exponentially as he carried out different tasks – getting the ingredients he needed, cutting up the foxglove, measuring out the wormwood  – and he began to draw shadows close to him to place a buffer between himself and the rest of the class. Draco seemed to notice that something was not right with his rival because he kept shooting glances at Harry, an irritated yet uncertain expression on his face.  
  
         Harry crushed the berries of his night-blooming jasmine just a little too eagerly, but he needed an outlet for his sudden energy and there was little he could do in a classroom but take out his anger on his potion ingredients. He worked quickly, always aware of the tall, lithe body of his professor walking about the room or leaning over students' shoulders to study their progress. Harry remained stooped over his own cauldron, struggling to concentrate on the tricky directions he had to follow. He really wanted to get this right and show Severus that he was a good student, while at the same time he was telling himself that he didn't give a damn what his professor thought. The duality of his thoughts proved to be his downfall as Severus finally came up behind him, so close against the back of Harry's chair that the earthy musk that was his scent taunted Harry's senses and clouded his already overtaxed mind.  
  
         “Too much wormwood, Potter,” Severus said, remarking on the slightly greenish cast to Harry's potion when it should have been a bluish-grey. “This will hardly hold up against dragon fire, though it might temporarily repel a conjured flame. Perhaps I'll have you test it at the end of class ...”  
  
         _I knew it_ , Harry thought, and the entire day hit him all at once, from the 'morning sickness' to starving all day to Aiya favoring Draco while practically ignoring Harry, and now the man that had been so possessive and passionate the night before was treating Harry the same as he had during Harry's first year. It was too much for him, and Harry snapped.  
  
         “Test it on yourself,” he growled, various emotions glimpsed in the changing green of his eyes as he turned on his professor. He threw down the knife he'd been using to cut his ingredients, ignoring the gasps and stares of his fellow classmates as he confronted the one teacher that most students knew better than to argue with.   
  
         “Potter's gone mad,” he heard Draco mutter under his breath.  
  
         Severus's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he remained so cold and calm that Harry grew twice as angry, energy swelling inside of him like hot air filling a balloon. Any second now he was going to pop and something very bad was going to happen.  
  
         “I suggest you take your seat and finish your potion, Mr. Potter,” Severus said in a deceptively tranquil tone, “and I will only take ten points away from Gryffindor for your insolence.”  
  
         “Only ten? How generous of you.” Harry spat out sarcastically. The shadows clinging to him began to tremble, troubled by their master's sudden spike of energy. “I'm surprised you let me get away with _breathing_ in this class without docking points.” A fire like the one that had consumed his body during his change now took hold of Harry once more; unseen flames licked at his skin and urged him on, instilling in him a need for something just within reach ... something that only the person in front of him could give him.  
  
         Severus seemed to catch on that this was not a simple matter of a student acting out of line, but he reacted as he would at any other time, grabbing Harry's arm and sneering at him. “Only the first day and already you give me the perfect opportunity to get you out of my class,” he snarled, half-dragging Harry through the classroom and ignoring the gaping faces of the other seventh years. He opened the door and threw Harry out into the hall. “The Headmaster's office. _Now_.” And then he stalked back into the classroom and shut the door with a bang.  
  
         Harry seethed out in the dark corridor, brim-full of that dark energy that it seemed only Severus could awaken. He drew his shadows closer, which relieved a bit of the fiery ache inside, then began walking the long trek up to the Headmaster's office, mentally cursing Severus with every step, until finally the anger faded and he was left with the realization that he had just gotten himself kicked out of Potions and now he had to go to Dumbledore and explain why.  
  
         By the time he had dragged himself all the way to the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance to the office, Harry was a wreck. His long hair had slipped free of its tie and now hung in thick, dark waves slightly past his shoulders, untamable as always, and his robes were even more wrinkled and disheveled than when he'd first put them on that morning. Everything about him seemed to droop, his voice flat and resigned as he said, “Licorice snap,” to open the passageway.  
  
         Once up the stairs, Harry knocked at the door to the office, waiting for Dumbledore's cheery, “Come in,” before he stepped inside. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk looking over some strange documents, but these were casually swept aside as he looked up at Harry and gestured for him to sit down.  
  
         “Good afternoon, Harry,” Dumbledore's voice was stern but kind, “I certainly didn't expect to see you in my office again so soon. What happened in Professor Snape's class that ended in this unexpected visit?”  
  
         Harry fidgeted in his chair, not sure how to explain what happened. “I think ... I think I went a little mad, sir.”  
  
         “Ahh, I see,” Dumbledore said. He then stood up, gathered his papers, and walked to the door that led to his private rooms. “Well, you seem perfectly sane and reasonable now, Harry. You are adapting to an entirely new life, after all, so there are bound to be setbacks, but don't let it trouble you too much.” He opened the door, his blue eyes twinkling. “Professor Snape will be along shortly to tell you of your punishment. I trust you can keep yourself occupied until then?” And with a smile, he disappeared behind the door, leaving a confused and slightly terrified Harry alone in the office, awaiting his fate.  
  
         _One hundred points from Gryffindor? Detention for the entire year? Kicked out of Potions for good?_ Harry's brain thought up a million punishments as he suffered in the oppressive silence of the room, broken only by the soft trill of Fawkes. If anything, the waiting was far worse than any punishment he could think of, held prisoner in a state of suspense, the minutes slowly ticking by and still no sign of Severus.   
  
         “Hermione is going to kill me,” he said to Fawkes, who trilled sympathetically in return. Who knew how many points Severus would add to the twenty points Harry had already lost for Gryffindor? Maybe if he'd been sitting by Ron or Hermione instead of Draco, he wouldn't have blown up the way he had. It wasn't as if Severus was treating him any differently than he had any other year - but that was the point, wasn't it? Why was the man sticking his tongue down Harry's throat one minute and treating him like an enemy the next? _Did you expect him to smother you with affection?_ a traitorous voice in his head asked. _Seventeen or not, you're still his student. And he's a spy who can't afford to make mistakes. You were sitting next to a Death Eater's son, for pity's sake. Grow up, Harry._  
  
         _Yeah, yeah_ , Harry responded glumly, too caught up in his depression to care that he was talking back to the voices in his head now. This wasn't like talking to Aiya - the voice wasn't his own, wasn't some inner monologue, but it wasn't another Mori mindspeaking with him either. It was more like the voices he'd heard when he first woke up at Hogwarts.  
  
         _He's coming_ , the voice said before fading to nothing, and Harry sat up straighter in the chair. He heard the door open behind him but he didn't have to turn around to know it was Severus who walked through the door; that aura, that scent, that powerful presence .... these were all things that Harry seemed to recognize instinctively.   
  
         “Here, drink this,” was the unexpected greeting as a vial of bluish-grey liquid was put in Harry's hand. A cool mist rose from the opening. “Miss Granger's seemed the safest bet. She has an irritating knack for perfection.”  
  
         Harry stared at the vial, then up at his professor, noting that Severus looked annoyed but not furious like he should be. _I completely disrespected him in class_ , Harry thought, _so why isn't he shouting at me?_ He looked back down at the vial in his hand, startled to realize exactly what it was he was holding. “But isn't this ... ”  
  
         “ _Dragon's Tears_ ,” Severus finished for him, adding with a smirk, “with the _correct_ infusion of wormwood. Now be a good Gryffindor and drink it all down.”  
  
         Harry blinked, then frowned. “But I thought this potion killed humans if they drank it? I know I yelled at you, but forcing me to drink poison ... ”  
  
         Severus sighed, running a hand through hair left lank and greasy from a day of overseeing potions. “Think, Potter. It kills humans ... but you're not quite human anymore, are you? Just because there are only two uses for _Dragon's Tears_ in the wizarding world doesn't mean other creatures can't benefit from it as well.”  
  
         _Oh,_ Harry thought, still not used to the fact that he was considered a magical creature now and not a human. “What will it do?”  
  
         “Raise your tolerance for sunlight, for one,” Severus said, leaning against Dumbledore's desk as he studied the bright-eyed morion across from him. “Your sister and I noticed how ill you appeared at breakfast and then again at lunch, so I decided to move _Dragon's Tears_ up in the syllabus. Of course, it would have been nice if you could have made it correctly the first time, but I suppose Miss Granger can help you perfect it. I'll provide enough ingredients to last you the year - the effects from drinking that vial I gave you should last for several weeks, so you won't have to make any more until October.”  
  
         Harry listened in amazement. Severus had rearranged his lesson plan just to teach Harry how to make a potion that would make him feel better? Wordlessly, he put the vial to his lips and drank the potion down quickly. It was like swallowing slushy ice and it gave Harry a 'brain freeze' for a few seconds, then the most delightfully cool sensation spread throughout his body and his mind grew clear and unclouded once more.  
  
         “Wow,” he mumbled, then he looked up at Severus, shame-faced and feeling incredibly guilty. “Thank you ... I'm sorry about how I acted in class, but today was really - ”  
  
         Severus smirked, pushing away from the desk to stand right in front of Harry, threading his long fingers into Harry's thick hair. “No excuses, Potter. I still haven't given you your punishment. Officially, it will be detention three nights a week for as long as I deem necessary, to cover for your Occlumency lessons. Privately,” he bent down, biting Harry's earlobe before murmuring huskily, “ _Mmm_ , I won't be satisfied until I have you screaming my name.”  
  
         Harry's breath caught in his throat, his pulse hammering away, but then Severus pulled away, his icy composure back in place. _There's gotta be a switch somewhere,_ Harry thought, _that he can just turn on and off._ There was no other way for him to explain how quickly Severus could go from passionate lover to prickly professor.  
  
         “Try not to be late tonight, Potter.” He took the empty _Dragon's Tears_ vial and, in a flurry of dark robes, he swept out of the office.  
  
         For once, Harry looked forward to a detention with Snape. 

 


	11. The First Lesson

 

  
         Harry ignored the multitude of stares directed his way as he wolfed down his food, too hungry to care that he was the talk of the school after his supposed 'mental breakdown' in Potions.  
  
         "I wish I could have seen it," Neville said. He'd dropped Potions as soon as possible, so he hadn't had the unique opportunity of seeing Harry flip out at Snape and live to tell the tale.  
  
         "You never did tell us what Snape gave you for punishment," Ron said. He and Hermione had raced over to Dumbledore's office after class only to find Harry wandering the hallway with a dazed look on his face. Unable to tell his friends what had really happened, Harry had let them think the worst so that they wouldn't pressure him for details right away.  
  
         "Detention … three nights … week," Harry garbled out between bites.  
  
         "Just three detentions?" Hermione asked in disbelief. Such a light punishment would imply that Snape had been merciful, and to a Gryffindor no less.  
  
         "No, three detentions a week … for infinity," Harry clarified during a pause in his feeding frenzy. He took a drink of pumpkin juice as his friends gaped at him.  
  
         "Can he do that?" Seamus looked horrified at the prospect that such a punishment existed.  
  
         "Well, I suppose infinity is a bit of an exaggeration," Harry amended his rash statement, a ghost of a grin haunting the corners of his mouth. "He can't make me go to detentions after I leave Hogwarts, now can he? So that makes it … three nights a week until the end of the school year."  
  
         "You're taking this rather well," Hermione said suspiciously.  
  
         Harry feigned innocence, knowing that, unlike the fact that he was a Mori, the fact that he had a quasi-relationship with his Potions professor had to remain completely secret for now. He could only imagine the reaction Ron would have if he knew about Harry lusting after Severus. "He could have done worse," he said with a shrug. "I'm just glad he didn't take any more points away from Gryffindor."  
  
         "But," he continued, pushing his empty plate aside, "it does mean I only have a little time before I have to go down to the dungeons, and I need to go to the library first."  
  
         "The _library_?" Ron said the word as if it left a terrible taste in his mouth. "What would you want to go _there_ for?"  
  
         Hermione grabbed her boyfriend's arm and hauled him to his feet. "Library, yes. To study that new charm Professor Flitwick assigned us, wasn't it? We'll go with you."  
  
         Harry grinned as Ron sputtered indignantly and tried to detach himself from Hermione's iron grip. "Have you both gone mad? I don't _want_ to go the library," Ron said, but his protests fell on deaf ears as Hermione dragged him out of the Great Hall.  
  
         Harry started to follow, glancing only once at the teacher's table to see Severus watching him intently, which thrilled him, but no sign of Aiya. He frowned, wondering where she was. He reached out to her with his mind but collided with a black wall of silence, similar to the heavy curtain he used to block his own mind whenever he didn't want his sister to intrude on his thoughts. He thought about tugging at that invisible cord that always connected them, but it wasn't an emergency and he didn't want to alarm Aiya for nothing.  
  
         _Maybe she's with …_ he quickly glanced over at the Slytherin table and sure enough, Draco wasn't there. Harry didn't like the idea of his sister being alone with Draco, no matter the reason, and he decided then and there that he'd investigate the matter thoroughly. _Ron and Hermione can help, too,_ he thought, since he planned on revealing everything about Aiya to them that night.  


*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

  
  
         Ron flopped down into one of the cushy armchairs that the Room of Requirement had provided for the three friends. He'd calmed down once he realized he wasn't going to have to spend the evening in the library, and now he was back to being cheerful and carefree, teasingly pulling Hermione down onto his lap as he grinned up at Harry. "So what's this all about?"  
  
         "Something happened over the summer," Harry started out, biting back a chuckle as Hermione smacked Ron's arm and moved over to her own chair, adopting a serious expression that didn't quite disguise the faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Something … unexpected. You both have to promise not to tell anyone what I'm going to tell you, no one. Not Ginny, or the twins, or even your parents, Ron."  
  
         "Does this have to do with you being sick?" Hermione asked worriedly.  
  
         "Sort of," Harry said, pulling out a tiny book from his pocket. He set it on the coffee table that the chairs were assembled around and tapped it with his wand, restoring it to its normal size. He'd bookmarked the important page, and with a sigh he handed the book to Hermione. "I don't suppose either of you have heard of a race of magical creatures called the Mori, have you?"  
  
         Recognition of the name flickered in Ron's eyes but Hermione looked baffled (and not too happy about it). Ron looked over at her and grinned, "Are you joking? Is there actually something you don't know about?"  
  
         "It's not as if I could possibly know everything, _Ronald_ ," Hermione said icily, and her use of his full first name wiped the grin off Ron's face.  
  
         "What about you, Ron?" Harry asked as he watched Hermione flip through the book to the place he'd marked, her eyes intent on the page as she absorbed what little information Culpepper had provided about the dark creatures.  
  
         "Fred and George once tried to scare me by saying a Mori was hiding in the shadows under my bed, and that once I fell asleep it would come out and drag me into the shadows with it," Ron admitted sheepishly. "I stayed up three nights in a row, I was so terrified. Then mum told me they were extinct. Boy, did she yell at Fred and George." Ron sighed happily at the memory of his brothers being punished.  
  
         "They aren't extinct."  
  
         Ron laughed. "Right, Harry. Good one." He chuckled again, like Harry had made a joke.  
  
         Harry wasn't laughing, and neither was Hermione. She'd finished reading by now and was passing the book over to Ron. "Read it," she ordered, then looked up at Harry. "So you're a morion, then?"  
  
         "Come on, Hermione … Harry may be deluded, but that's no reason to call him a moron." Ron just barely dodged the hand that swung at the back of his head, giving Harry a brief moment of déjà vu as he recalled the incident in Dumbledore's office between Aiya and Sirius.  
  
         "The only moron here is you," she said with a roll of her eyes, then she leaned forward in her chair, her expression a cross between concern and triumph. "I'm right, aren't I? That's why you've seemed so different lately - why you were sick this morning, and why your eyes have changed."  
  
         Harry nodded, not really surprised that Hermione had picked up on it so quickly. "I was 'turned' over a week ago. Not very many people know … Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, Sev- I mean, Snape …"  
  
         "Snape knows?" Ron was still struggling to understand the information being thrown at him, but he seemed offended that Severus had known about Harry's secret before him.  
  
         "He was there when it happened," Harry said hurriedly. "He made the potion that's part of the ritual, plus he and Aiya knew each other from school - "  
  
         "Aiya?" Hermione's eyes widened. "You mean Professor Graham? She's a … a …"  
  
         "A morwen, yes. Not only that, she's my sister now," Harry said, shooting a worried glance at Ron who looked utterly confused and overloaded with information. "Dumbledore says it's kinda like she adopted me, in a way. So I'm part of her family now."  
  
         "So are you even … _human_ … anymore?" Hermione looked fascinated, as if Harry was a new specimen to study, and Harry figured she would be spending her free time in the library for the next few days trying to find out anything and everything she could about the Mori.  
  
         "Technically, no," Harry said. Ron was starting to look a little green. "I mean, I still look human, and I'm still me … but a lot about me has changed. I guess I'm classified as a magical creature, just like any other Mori."  
  
         "Hmmm, I wonder why they're labeled under 'beast,' and not 'being' like the house-elves," Hermione pondered quietly.  
  
         "Who cares about that?" Ron glared at his inquisitive girlfriend, his emotional outburst a harsh contrast to her clinical assessment of the situation. "What the hell are these authors playing at, saying something's extinct when it's not? And Dumbledore just sat back and watched this … this _creature_ infect you and turn you into one of her kind?"  
  
         Harry tried not to get angry since it was a lot to ask Ron to take in all at once, but the way he talked about Aiya didn't sit well with Harry's protective instincts. "Dumbledore was all for it," Harry said defensively, "which is pretty obvious since Aiya is teaching at Hogwarts. Do you think he'd let her teach here if she was evil or something?"  
  
         "She could be another Umbridge," Ron said grudgingly.  
  
         "You didn't mind her during class," Harry pressed his case. "And I'm a Mori now, too, so if she's evil then I'm evil. Is that what you're saying?" His eyes shifted from a fierce jade to a melancholy shade of olive.  
  
         Ron cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his flame-red hair before growling out, "'Course not, Harry. It's just - give me a minute to absorb this, okay mate?" He managed a small, lopsided smile that Harry gratefully reciprocated, but in the next instant Ron was groaning and burying his head in his hands. "Bloody hell!"  
  
         "What? What is it?" Harry grew tense, alarmed by the despairing tone of his friend's voice.  
  
         "I just realized," Ron raised his head, looking totally depressed, "she must be a Slytherin after all."  
  
         Harry and Hermione just stared at him for several seconds before Hermione finally broke down, muffling her snicker behind her hand. Harry followed after, not bothering to hide his chuckles, and Ron eventually gave in and had a laugh or two himself. _Not exactly painless_ , Harry thought to himself, _but it could have gone a lot worse._  
  
         "So tell us the whole story, and don't leave anything out," Hermione said once they'd all managed to get their laughter under control.  
  
         Harry sat back in the armchair, feeling more relaxed now that he didn't have that secret weighing on his chest. "Well, it all started when I heard this noise outside my bedroom door … "

  
*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

  
  
         Harry hesitated outside the door to Severus's office. Even after telling the entire story of meeting Aiya and becoming a Mori, he'd had plenty of time to get down to the dungeons for his detention/Occlumency lesson without fear of being late. His palms were sweaty as he lightly knocked on the door, waiting for Severus to invite him in, but there was nothing. Frowning, he knocked again, a little louder this time, but still no answer.  
  
         _This is where I had my lessons last time_ , he thought to himself, trying to remember if Severus had said anything about changing the location of where they were to meet. He was about to just go inside, invited or not, when he sensed the familiar, powerful presence of his professor and began to seek it out like a bloodhound trailing a scent. The dungeons were never well-lit but Harry's eyesight was perfectly clear as he crept along the shadowy corridor. He turned a corner just in time to catch a glimpse of black robes disappear into a room at the far end of the hall.  
  
         Harry jogged to the spot where he'd seen the figure vanish, surprised to find himself face to face with a huge portrait of a lounging panther, its sleek, black form draped along the lowest branch of a tall tree. In the portrait's background, a black speck could be seen circling in the sky, but Harry's eyes were for the panther alone. It slowly opened its glowing eyes, yawning lazily and exposing its razor-sharp teeth before it fully rested its gaze on Harry.  
  
         "Have - have you seen Professor Snape?" Harry couldn't get past the similarity between the panther in his dream and the one in the portrait. There was no reply to his question, only a lazy flick of the panther's tail as it settled back down for its nap. He was about to just turn around and head back to the office when the portrait swung open and Severus started to walk out, startled into inaction by the sight of Harry.  
  
         "Err … I went to the office but you weren't there, and then I thought I sensed - " Harry broke off, not sure that he wanted to tell Severus that he'd relied on his Mori instincts to hunt the man down. "Anyway, I thought I saw you come down here and I asked the portrait but - "  
  
         "Yes, yes," Severus cut in briskly. "Spare me the details, Potter." He glanced down the hallway, then drew Harry inside, closing the concealed door behind them with a finality that sent shivers of anticipation through Harry's body. "What have I told you about wandering around at night?"  
  
         "Umm .. not to do it?" Harry answered absently, engrossed in studying the room around him. It was little more than a basic sitting room, with a plush couch, two overstuffed armchairs and a plain coffee table, all placed near the huge fireplace on the right side of the room. On the left side of the room, all along the wall, were bookcases full of dusty old tomes with names that Harry didn't recognize. There were two doors, one that presumably led to Severus's bedroom (the thought of which made Harry tremble slightly) and the other half-open and revealing a laboratory of sorts. There were no portraits on the walls, no art or decoration, and the entire sitting room had an impersonal touch to it that reminded Harry of the cold, closed-off side of Severus's personality. He wondered if the bedroom would be the same; he hadn't been able to open his eyes during his brief stay there, so he had no memory of what it looked like, only that the bed had been quite comfortable.  
  
         "Exactly, and I expect you to start listening to me when I tell you not to do something. Now that you've discovered my private rooms," Severus flicked his wand and several lamps flared to life, giving the otherwise sterile room a cheerful glow, "I suppose we can have your lessons here instead of at my office. I'll make sure that the portrait recognizes you next time; he doesn't respond to passwords, so only those people I personally allow into my rooms can enter."  
  
         Harry didn't know whether to be pleased or petrified. How could he concentrate on Occlumency with Severus's bedroom only a few feet away? Was it even permissible for him to be in his professor's private rooms like this? He wanted to bring it up, but he reckoned that Severus would only say something like, _'Since when have rules ever stopped you before, Potter?'_  
  
         "I suppose it's too much to ask that you've studied Occlumency on your own following our first attempts at these lessons?" Severus smirked at Harry's blank expression and nodded. "Predictable." He gestured for Harry to stand opposite him on that side of the room where there were only bookshelves, waiting for Harry to draw out his wand before he spoke again. His inky black stare easily captured Harry's gaze and didn't look away; Harry dimly remembered that Legilimency depended on eye contact …  "Let's see just how much you remember of what I taught you … _Legilimens!_ "  
  
         The black curtain in Harry's mind was ripped away and he found himself flooded with memories: _Dudley pushing a toddler Harry into a mud puddle … Harry speaking parseltongue to the snake that had erupted from the end of Draco's wand … flying through the air on the back of Buckbeak, the grounds of Hogwarts passing in a blur beneath him … his back being pushed against a nearby tree as Matthew Crane from a few houses down forced his tongue into Harry's mouth …_  
  
         Suddenly, the memories stopped before Harry could even attempt to defend himself. Severus was staring at him coldly, something glinting in the dark depths of his eyes, his knuckles white from the tight grip he had on his wand. There was a tense silence between them, Harry growing red in embarrassment at what his professor had most likely seen, but Severus seemed to regain control of himself and he raised his wand. "Again. And please make an effort to block me this time. Now … _Legilimens!_ "  
  
         _Sirius comforting Harry after an especially gruesome nightmare … breakfast at the Burrow … the pool of shadows in the drawing room where Aiya crouched, half-submerged … the startling image reflected back at him from the mirror in Aiya's bathroom …_ and Harry held to that particular memory, looked deeper into the swirling green of his reflection's eyes, then raised his wand as green turned to black, and it was Severus in front of him instead of the mirror. " _Protego!_ "  
  
         The spell was reflected back at his professor who was not quite fast enough to block it, giving Harry only the briefest glimpse into Severus's memories: _a young, black-haired boy huddled under the blankets of his bed while loud, angry voices could be heard through the thin walls … a vial of oozing green liquid smashing on the ground as a teenage Severus tripped over a foot that was stretched out into the aisle … an unidentifiable child curled in upon itself, strange symbols carved into its skin, blood everywhere, a soft, keening cry coming from the young throat as another child, a boy, knelt beside it and shouted out healing spells in desperation …_  
  
         "No, not that," came a voice from far away and Harry was knocked back, the memories gone and replaced by the lamp-lit sitting room and a visibly disturbed Severus.  
  
         "Not bad, Potter," he finally said, reclaiming his cool composure. "I'd forgotten that you used a shield charm during our previous lessons. But you're still taking too long to push me out. You need to learn how to block me from the very beginning. Concentrate harder, and try and clear your mind of all those strong emotions you're prone to unleashing on the world." No doubt a reference to Harry's outburst in Potions that day.  
  
         They continued on, Severus prodding at Harry's mind and Harry never quite succeeding in keeping him out, until Harry grew so frustrated that it was impossible to concentrate. He was ready to beg for a break when he heard a bossy, high-pitched voice in the back of his mind.

         _You'll never win that way. You're Mori now and you need to use Mori magic … amin naa ungue … everyone knows that one … put all your emotions into it … amin naa ungue …_  
  
         " _Amin naa ungue_ ," Harry said forcefully just as Severus initiated another round of " _Legilimens!_ " but as soon as Harry spoke the foreign-sounding words, it felt as if every thought he'd ever had was suddenly emptied out of his mind and nothing but a faint echo remained inside of him. Severus was staring at him, not quite understanding the sudden change in the morion, and he repeated the spell, " _Legilimens!_ " but Harry felt the push of Severus's mind flow right through him as harmlessly as water through a sieve.  
  
         Severus lowered his wand. "What was that spell you used, Potter?"  
  
         Harry shrugged, not really knowing what it was but realizing now that it made him feel very, very sleepy, and so empty that he couldn't even tell if he was alarmed by the sensation or elated. _Ahh … perhaps that was too much for a fledgling like you_ , the high-pitched voice squeaked and then faded away. Harry couldn't even dredge up the will to be angry that something had obviously gone wrong thanks to taking the voice's advice.  
  
         "Harry?" Severus closed the distance between them. The sound of his first name from Severus's lips stirred a faint feeling of happiness in Harry but it was gone before he could grasp it, and the hollow sensation remained. _I should be scared_ , Harry thought, _or at least panicking a little_ , but he felt absolutely nothing.  
  
         Severus thrust his wand back into his robes, then took Harry by the shoulders, shaking him. "Harry, what did you do?" The warmth of the man's hands permeated Harry's clothes and a fierce, restless energy blossomed beneath his touch, bringing awareness and emotion back into Harry with an intensity that made him gasp. He felt as if he was waking from a long, dark sleep.  
  
         "I'm - I'm fine now," Harry managed to say, a little dizzy from the trauma of going from numb to impassioned in less than a second. He felt very light, as if some anchoring weight had been tossed aside and he was in danger of floating away. He looked up at Severus so he could find his focus, only to suck in his breath at the raw lust gleaming in Severus's eyes.  
  
         "What a pity you have to hide this," Severus said softly, brushing his knuckles along Harry's cheek.  
  
         _Hide? Hide what?_ Harry wondered, puzzled, then realization dawned - he was no longer dimming. Severus was seeing him as a true morion without the disguise he usually wore. _I must have lost it because of that spell_ , Harry thought. A part of him felt disappointed that a spell that protected him from legilimency was too taxing for him to use regularly, at least at this stage of his development, but most of his mind was occupied by the reality of being backed up against a bookshelf by his professor.  
  
         "Do you realize how hard it was to restrain myself this afternoon … those eyes of yours blazing with anger … Merlin, but you're beautiful when you're angry, Harry … I can never help myself from provoking you into those rages of yours," Severus's decadent voice drawled in Harry's ear, then grew cold and demanding as he took Harry's face in his hands, imprisoning Harry with his narrowed, onyx gaze. "When I saw the memory of that _boy_ ," he spat out the word distastefully, "pawing you, kissing you, touching what's mine … I wanted to claim you there and then … possess you in every possible way … even now, it's all I can think of."  
  
         He lowered his hands to Harry's hips, pulling Harry flush against him so that there could be no doubt of his arousal. Harry moaned, his wand dropping uselessly from his hand as he wrapped his arms around Severus's neck. That unique, dark pulse, frantic and searching, grabbed hold of Harry and urged him to pull Severus closer as their lips crashed together in a kiss so electrifying that Harry was sure it had burned every second of the memory of Matthew Crane's awkward fumblings out of his mind forever.  
  
         His skin felt much too hot, his senses heightened to an unbearable degree as Harry's need grew to the point of pain. He didn't protest as Severus reached between their bodies to rip open Harry's robe, yanking the shirt free of his trousers so he could slide his long fingers up Harry's chest, his touch like a brand upon Harry's skin.  
  
         Severus pulled back from the kiss, his movements fraught with impatience as he unbuttoned Harry's shirt and pushed it and the robe off of Harry's shoulders, letting them fall to the floor. His hands then moved to Harry's trousers, the rasp of the zipper being pulled down sounding loud in the room and mingling with Harry's harsh panting. There was a taunting smile on Severus's face as he shoved both trousers and boxers down Harry's legs, a hand gliding up Harry's thigh as he drank in the sight of his student's slim, toned body. "Perhaps we should make these lessons clothing optional?"  
  
         "Yes, _that_ would help me concentrate," Harry said, but his sarcasm just didn't have its usual bite when he was naked and panting. He started working on divesting Severus of his own clothes, finding them a little harder to slip off with all the buttons and fancy closures. He growled his frustration, much to Severus's amusement, and he swatted Harry's hands away, expertly and efficiently undressing with a speed that pleased Harry very much. He leaned back against the bookshelf, ignoring the vague discomfort it brought, and began to slowly stroke his hardening cock as he watched Severus strip, a tremor of desire seizing control of him when he saw how Severus's gaze darkened in response.  
  
         The reality of what was happening didn't really hit Harry until Severus rid himself of his last article of clothing, revealing a body that rivaled Harry's own for its paleness, his form lean and lithe, as sleek as the guardian panther in the portrait just outside. Harry could see the play of muscle in every languorous movement his professor made, and as his gaze dipped lower he swallowed hard, a little intimidated by sight of the man's erection. His fingers slowed in their strokes. Severus must have noticed Harry's trepidation, because he took Harry into his arms, nuzzling his neck before murmuring in his ear, "As much as I want to, I won't claim you tonight ... not until you're ready."  
  
         Harry relaxed, soothed by the circles being rubbed over his bare back. He found himself being led over to the long, plushy couch, Severus sitting first then pulling Harry into a straddling position in his lap. Their erections brushed against each other, sending a jolt of pleasure straight up Harry's spine.  
  
         "I was going to make you scream tonight," Severus purred as he rubbed his hand over Harry's chest, raking his nails over one taut nipple in a way that tore a needy whine from Harry's lips, "but our time is almost up, so I suppose I'll have to be patient."  
  
         He curled his long fingers around their twin erections, stroking them both simultaneously while using his free hand to draw Harry down to him for a blistering kiss, his tongue penetrating Harry's mouth in a rough imitation of what he wanted to do once Harry was willing. One hand gripped tightly in Harry's silky black hair, the other ruthlessly jerking both their cocks together, and all of Harry's wild cries were swallowed by Severus's lips.  
  
         Just when Harry thought he might explode, he felt the world shift and suddenly he was on his back and Severus was trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, across the smooth expanse of his chest, his tongue delving into Harry's bellybutton, then his warm, moist breath bathing Harry's cock before he took Harry into his mouth.  
  
         "Oh, gods," Harry moaned, sliding his fingers into Severus's hair as Severus gave him his very first blowjob. The incredible wet heat surrounding his penis had him arching his hips greedily for more, the wanton thrusts stilled by Severus's hands as he held Harry down. The tongue that had done such a clever exploration of Harry's mouth now did wicked things along the length of his shaft, then up to tease the head, driving Harry into a state of delirium.  
  
         It didn't take long for Harry's teenage stamina to reach its limit, his fingers tightening their grip in his professor's hair as he cried out urgently, "Severus! I ... I'm going to -" robbed of speech as a spectacular orgasm wracked his thin frame, spurting his seed into the eager mouth that swallowed every drop, until Severus released him with an audible *pop* and milked the last of Harry's release from him with a few skilled pumps of his fist.  
  
         The sight of Harry lying replete and thoroughly debauched below him seemed to send Severus into his own carnal frenzy as he moved up Harry's body and claimed his swollen lips in another bruising kiss, pulling those slim hips tight against him as he brutally rutted against Harry's sweat-slicked flesh until he achieved his own release, coating Harry's stomach as well as his own with sticky cum. He groaned loudly against Harry's lips with each subsequent thrust until the last twitch of his cock between their bodies, only then softening the claim he'd made on Harry's mouth as he pulled away with a teasing flick of his tongue against Harry's tender bottom lip.  
  
         "I must say, Potter, you're making excellent progress after only one lesson," Severus said with a smirk, chuckling softly as Harry tried to force a weak glare at the snide remark, but he was too drowsy and too satisfied to work up much of a temper. He mourned the loss of Severus's body heat as the older man pulled away to retrieve their clothing and both their wands from where they'd hastily abandoned them.  
  
         Harry very nearly fell asleep, not noticing when the stickiness was vanished off his body, but he was aware of something black and smelling of Severus being draped over his limp form, a velvety voice in his ear saying, "I'll give you a few minutes to rest, then off to your own bed, Potter," the words somewhat cold and strict but softened by the gentle pressure of warm lips pressed against his forehead.  
  
         _Best detention I've ever had_ , Harry thought as he drifted off for a short nap.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
>  **amin naa ungue** \- literally translates to 'I am hollow'


	12. Eavesdropping

 

         As the week dragged on, Harry discovered that his attempts to adapt to life as a Mori created as many problems as it solved. For instance, the Dragon's Tears that freed him from feeling miserable during daylight hours also left him feeling constantly cold during the night, to the point that he began to wear multiple layers of clothing to bed. And though he was determined to tune out the strange murmuring voices in his mind, inevitably a crisis would occur - such as drawing a blank when asked a question by Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration - and some sneaky voice would slip past his defenses and give him the answer (he still wasn't sure if this was a problem or a godsend). Even learning how to ignore the unwanted attentions of other students had its drawback; if he wasn't careful, he would miss someone slipping a potion into his pumpkin juice or bumping into him just to snip off a lock of his hair.   
  
         “And who knows what sort of magical properties are contained in the hair of a Mori,” Hermione would lecture him whenever she circumvented such disasters. She had appointed herself to the task of keeping Harry safe from poorly-concocted love potions and reckless cutting charms. To minimize the risk of Harry's hair ending up as someone's keepsake, Hermione had forced him to sit quietly one evening while she cut his shoulder-length mane up to its former slightly shaggy length, leaving it too short to tie back. “Not that any of those idiots know what you are, but still ... it's _dangerous_ , Harry. In the right hands, even a tiny lock of hair can be used against you. Be a little more careful, will you?”  
  
         He tried, he really did, but there were so many other things on his mind: keeping up with his classes, finishing his homework, captaining the Quidditch team, investigating Draco, pretending Aiya wasn't his sister in public, attending Occlumency lessons, snogging Severus at the end of said lessons, secretly masturbating every night he _didn't_ have a lesson, and worrying about Voldemort's next plot to kill him. By the end of that first week, Harry began to think that getting done in by his nemesis would be a mercy-killing, if anything.  
  
         Above all else, it was Severus who weighed most heavily on Harry's mind. Occlumency proved hard to master when just being around his dark-eyed professor filled Harry with so many confusing emotions that he couldn't concentrate. He did notice that Severus was starting to use Dumbledore's pensieve before each lesson again, and it made him wonder just what Severus could possibly want to hide from him now. He'd already seen the worst memory in his fifth year, hadn't he? What was it that Severus didn't trust him to see?  
  
         There were so many questions Harry told himself he would ask Severus during his next lesson, the biggest one being _why?_ Why him? Why now? Why was Severus so possessive? Why was Harry so willing to be possessed? Why did that restless dark energy stir inside of Harry whenever Severus gave him even the slightest attention, good or bad? How did Harry single out Severus's scent from everyone else's during meals in the Great Hall? And how did Severus know just how to touch Harry to evoke the right reaction from him, whether to calm or to arouse or to comfort ... the man just seemed to _know._  
  
         These questions and more would be swirling inside of Harry's brain as he walked down to the dungeons for his lesson with every intention to satisfy his curiosity now that he would have Severus alone, but the timing never seemed right before the lesson, and afterwards ... well, talking was the last thing Harry wanted to do. His second and third lessons passed by and Harry was lucky to be coherent enough to stumble back to the dormitory afterwards, let alone remember any of the questions that haunted him. _Maybe it's just because I'm a Mori now_ , he would think to himself at his lowest points. _He could just be using me._ But eventually he would shake off the gloomy thoughts and rationalize that, in a way, he was using Severus, too, and the orgasms were brilliant, so why worry?  
  
         He woke up that Saturday morning with the resolution to push the entire subject out of his mind for the rest of the weekend. Aiya had reminded him in class the day before that he was to come to her rooms immediately after breakfast so they could start his training, or “Mori 101” as Aiya liked to call it. He hoped that with as distracting as Aiya could be, she would keep his mind off of his undefined relationship with Severus.  
  
         He took his time showering, grateful for a slow-paced Saturday after such a hectic schedule during the week, then dressed comfortably in dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged his chest in a way that showed off the lean, athletic build he'd acquired after years of Quidditch, as well as from slaving away his summers as the Dursleys' personal handyman-slash-gardener.   
  
         Ginny whistled at him as he entered the common room. “Sexy as always, Harry,” she said with a wink before turning back to her boyfriend, Dean, who didn't look at all pleased by his girlfriend's wandering eyes.   
  
         Harry just shrugged off what he knew was Ginny's way of teasing him. He turned to where Ron was lounging on a couch with Hermione's head in his lap, a leather-bound book clutched against her chest as she snored softly.   
  
         “Late night?” Harry asked suggestively, raising his eyebrows.  
  
         “I wish,” Ron muttered, shaking his girlfriend awake as he added, “This loon was up reading some book on the Mo-” he caught himself just in time, “on house-elves. You know, for S.P.E.W.”  
  
         Harry grinned, but couldn't help but feel somewhat ashamed. He hadn't even bothered to check for additional books on the Mori, but here Hermione had not only found at least one new source of information but she'd also spent valuable study time reading something totally unrelated to any of her demanding classes. He knew he was incredibly lucky to have such a devoted friend.  
  
         “Hmmm?” Hermione sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her honey-brown hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and it looked like she'd slept in her clothes from the day before. “Is it time for class already?”  
  
         “It's Saturday,” Ron reminded her with a roll of his eyes.   
  
         “Oh. Oh!” She jumped up from the couch, snagging Ron's hand in her own as she pulled him to his feet and started for the door. “Saturday ... right, right ... lots to do today, so we'd better get started!”   
  
         Her sudden burst of energy stunned both Ron and Harry into silence as Hermione led them towards the door and off to breakfast. As he hurried to follow his friends out before the portrait closed, Harry nearly ran into Lavender Brown. He made a quick apology, turning his head to smile at her, only to catch a glimpse of fear mixed with disgust on Lavender's face before she seemed to recover, giving Harry a wan smile in return.   
  
         “No worries, Harry,” she said before she sped off to the girls' dormitory.  
  
         _Wow, that was weird_ , Harry thought, but then he remembered what Aiya had told him about people reacting differently to him now that he was a Mori. So far he hadn't had any of his old friends treat him much differently, but apparently Lavender was going to be someone who reacted negatively to whatever this vibe was that Harry was giving out. He wondered how many other students at Hogwarts felt that instant revulsion whenever they saw him, and why their reactions differed so wildly from the ones who were trying to ply him with love potions or become his new best friend.   
  
         _Someone really needs to write a manual for all of this_ , Harry thought as he caught up with Ron and Hermione. Hermione was quietly but firmly pressuring Ron to help her in the library as the three of them walked to breakfast when suddenly she froze and gestured for the other two to be quiet (though they hadn't been able to squeeze a word in the entire time they were walking anyway) as she crept closer to the half-open doorway of what should have been an empty classroom.  
  
         “It's just a book, Draco,” said a feminine voice - _Pansy_ , Hermione mouthed to the other two - as the sounds of shuffling feet and heavy objects being moved drifted out of the classroom. “Have your parents buy you a new one. They can certainly afford it.”  
  
         “I _told_ you,” there was a definite note of tension in Draco's voice, as if he was one second away from hexing Pansy into oblivion, “there was something in it that I need. Something that can't be easily replaced.”  
  
         “If it's so important than why did you lose it in the first place?” Pansy's tone had sharpened as well. “You're usually on top of things like that.”  
  
         “I've been distracted.” Much colder this time, less emotional. “You know, I didn't ask you to help me. I can look on my own.”  
  
         “You've been doing a lot of things on your own, lately,” was Pansy's snide remark. Hermione nudged Ron in the side with her elbow when Ron snorted. “Or have you found someone else? Don't think I haven't seen how you look at that purple-eyed bitch of a professor. I didn't know your tastes ran to freaks like that. You could at least have told me we were through before you went and fucked someone else.”  
  
         Harry bristled at the obvious insult to Aiya but one glare from Hermione had him reigning in his temper. This was the perfect opportunity to glean a little information about Draco's dealings with Aiya, and he didn't want to mess it up by letting the two Slytherins know they were being spied on.  
  
         “Ours was hardly a romance, Parkinson,” Draco replied cooly, and Harry could just imagine the glacial expression on his pale, angular face. “Who I do or do not fuck is none of your concern.”  
  
         Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers by now. Ron looked like he was still having a hard time biting back his laughter. Harry, on the other hand, didn't think there was anything funny about Draco talking about Aiya and fucking in the same conversation. In fact, the whole idea of it made him want to punch the ferret's face in.  
  
         [Why aren't you at breakfast?] Aiya's voice cut into Harry's imagined thrashing of Draco and he jumped about three feet in the air, earning him puzzled looks from Ron and Hermione. _Aiya_ , he mouthed at them, and Hermione frowned. He could tell she wanted to stay and listen some more, but the longer they stayed, the more suspicious Aiya might get, and they'd already decided that the less she knew about their extracurricular investigations, the better.  
  
         [On my way,] he replied, and he gestured for his friends to follow him as he hurried past the classroom. The conversation had turned rather one-sided anyway, with Pansy shouting foul names and obscenities at Draco who sounded as if he was still looking for whatever book he'd lost.  
  
         “That bastard better not lay a hand on my sister,” Harry snarled once they were clear of the classroom and no longer in danger of being overheard.   
  
         “Calm down, Harry. Seriously, as if any professor at Hogwarts would involve themselves with a student,” Hermione tried to comfort him, though her words did little to make Harry feel better since he knew of at least one professor who _would_ do such a thing.  
  
         “And Aiya wouldn't be interested anyway, right? I mean, I know she favors him a little ... and he _does_ wait around after every class to talk to her about whatever Slytherins talk about ... and -” Ron proved to be just as useless in calming Harry down, and he quickly amended his train of thought at Harry's glare. “Well, it's just unthinkable. So ... stop thinking about it.”  
  
         But Harry _couldn't_ stop thinking about it. Maybe last year he would have brushed off the entire thing, making the same assumption that Hermione did that no professor would mess around with his or her student, but he knew better now. Boy, did he know better, and while he liked to think that Aiya wouldn't look twice at someone who was basically Harry's worst enemy (after Voldemort, that is), he knew stranger things had happened ... were happening now, to be honest.  
  
         “I wonder what's in that book that's so important?” Hermione had switched to the less explosive part of Draco and Pansy's conversation. “It can't be anything easily purchased or Draco would have just bought another one, like Pansy said. And what's been distracting him?”  
  
         “I know what better _not_ be distracting him,” Harry seethed, unable to let go of his fury over the possibility of Draco trying to get into Aiya's robes.  
  
         Hermione sighed and dropped the subject altogether as the three entered the Great Hall.

 


	13. Mori 101

 

  
       Breakfast passed in a red haze for Harry, his mind so focused on concocting sordid scenarios starring Draco and Aiya that he didn't even bother to eat his food - he just stabbed at it every now and then, mumbling incoherently and alarming most of the Gryffindors unlucky enough to be seated near him. Ron and Hermione alone seemed unfazed by their friend's bad mood, though neither of them attempted to diffuse it either, wisely leaving Harry to calm down on his own.  
  
       "Snape is staring at us," Ron said quietly, drawing Harry's attention for the first time since the three had sat down. He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Severus was looking their way, an inscrutable expression on his face and a sharp glint in his eyes. Harry fought against the surge of heat that erupted inside of him from just that single insignificant glance, and with tremendous effort he was able to force his passions back into anger where he preferred them to be for the moment, glaring at Severus before he looked down at his plate again.  
  
       "Did you do something to make him mad last night in detention?" Hermione asked suspiciously. On top of her duties of protecting Harry from his overly-ardent admirers and researching the Mori, she'd also been doing her best to keep Harry from getting himself into any more trouble. Harry didn't know where she got the energy to do all that _and_ manage to keep at the head of their class _and_ fulfill her duties as Head Girl.  
  
       "You should've heard him growling at me," Harry remarked with a smirk, not clarifying that Severus's growls were hardly the result of rage.   
  
       "Harry, I told you - " Hermione started to lecture him but he interrupted her with a weary sigh, feeling a little drained now that his anger was finally starting to die down.  
  
       "Yeah, yeah … behave myself. I know." He stood up, running a hand through his cropped hair, oblivious to the way even this casual movement drew the hungry black gaze of a certain professor - not to mention a few students, as well. "I'll see you both later."  
  
       "See ya, mate," Ron said, Hermione echoing him with a somewhat apologetic expression on her face, "See you later, Harry."  
  
       He waved and headed out of the Great Hall, directing his thoughts to Aiya as he went. [I'll be waiting in your rooms. Eight stones from the floor and five stones from the centaur, wasn't it?] he asked, referring to the position of the stone he would have to touch with his wand in order to reveal the hidden door to Aiya's chambers.  
  
       [Well, yes, but what's gotten into you this mor - ]  
  
       Harry closed his mind to her before she could complete the sentence. Okay, so maybe he was still a little angry … well, not angry, more like freaked out by the thought of Aiya doing anything remotely sexual with anyone, let alone Draco. He wondered if this was just how all brothers felt concerning their sisters, this overprotective instinct to murder any male who might have certain intentions regarding their siblings.   
  
       Aiya's rooms were on the second floor not far from the DADA office, but the doorway had been hidden behind an illusion of stone wall with a tapestry to the left of it and a painting to the right. The tapestry depicted a forest scene with several wood nymphs dancing in a circle while a stern-faced centaur watched gloomily over the festivities. The painting was of a young blond-haired boy chasing butterflies with a net, but he stopped in his never-ending hunt to stare curiously at Harry as he pulled out his wand and counted eight stones up from the floor and five stones over from the right edge of the tapestry where the centaur kept his aloof vigil. He tapped the correct stone once with his wand and the illusion melted away, revealing a heavy wooden door with a latch that Harry immediately pulled on, opening the door and slipping inside Aiya's rooms. He'd been told that the latch would only appear for him or Aiya; anyone else would have to knock and wait to be allowed entrance. Once he'd closed the door behind him, Harry tapped his wand against the wooden door so that the illusion would reinstate itself on the other side.  
  
       The first thing Harry noticed about Aiya's newly decorated living space was the scent of fresh paint and turpentine. He looked around for the source of the strong odor and saw an easel set up in the far right corner of the spacious room with paints and brushes on stands around it. _Hmm, so Aiya's an artist?_ he mused. Whatever canvas Aiya had been working on was now covered from sight by a sheet, but Harry didn't bother to sneak a peek just yet; he was too busy taking in the rest of the room. Aiya's rooms were set up much differently from Severus's, hers resembling a sprawling apartment whereas Severus's had been the bare minimum of sitting room, lab, bedroom, and bathroom, and though Harry couldn't speak for the bedroom (they hadn't made it that far yet) he knew that the rest of Severus's rooms were lacking the personal touches that cluttered Aiya's rooms.  
  
       The main living area was shaped like a backwards L and covered in framed pictures and paintings, though they were all obviously of Muggle origin as none of them moved. When he'd first been in Aiya's rooms, he'd been too eager to get to the feast to bother looking around, but now Harry noticed how warm and inviting the place was, with all the bright colors and Aiya's unmistakable scent - cherry blossoms and spring rain - mingling with the smell of paint. The walls were a plain white, but the vibrant paintings and photographs brought the room alive. At the end of the room opposite Aiya's easel and painting supplies was a cozy arrangement of black plushy chairs and a dark blue overstuffed sofa in a half-circle around the fireplace, fashion magazines and art journals spread haphazardly over the mahogany coffee table in the center. It was a mesh of high art and casual comfort that struck Harry as being thoroughly 'Aiya.' _On the downside_ , he thought, _it does look more like a Muggle lives here than a witch. I hope she doesn't invite too many people in here or someone might start asking questions …_  
  
         There were doors leading into other rooms that he itched to explore, but before he could go investigating he noticed a painting hanging by the bedroom door that caught his attention and wouldn't let go. It was of a man and a woman smiling at each other as they stood on some garden terrace, their eyes only for each other even though there was a beautiful star-lit sky above them and exotic-looking flowers blooming in bright reds and purples and blues all around them. The man had long, black hair and vivid purple eyes, his striking features reminding Harry so much of Aiya that he knew this must be her father. The woman was blue-eyed with chestnut curls falling past her waist, her lips parted in a way that suggested that she was a breath away from laughing, but her beauty had a subdued quality to it, nowhere near as powerful or engaging as the man opposite her. Both of them, however, had the unnatural glow to their skin that was typical of the Mori.  
  
         "The man is Rauko and the woman is Lisette," Aiya said from the doorway, startling Harry. He wished he could move as silently as his sister - it would help with the whole 'spying on Draco' thing.  
  
         "They're your parents, aren't they?" He looked back at the painting, squinting his eyes at the signature in the bottom right corner of the canvas to see the initials A.H.E. scrawled in black. "Did you paint this?"  
  
         "Yes and yes," Aiya said, coming into room and shutting the door behind her, tracing some pattern on the door with her finger that Harry assumed was meant to put the illusion back in place. He had yet to see a wand in his sister's hand. He didn't even know if she had one.  
  
         "What does the H stand for?"   
  
         "Helin," she said with a grin. "It means 'violet' in Elvish. It's my mother's favorite flower." She shrugged out of her robes, leaving them in a pile on the floor as she turned up her nose in obvious dislike. "I really hate wearing those things." Now that she was free of the somber fabric, Harry could see that Aiya was dressed much the same as she did while at Grimmauld Place, her generous curves accented by a purple and black lacy camisole top, cross-laced in the front, and the same painted-on black jeans he'd seen her wearing the first night he'd ever met her. She kicked off the strappy black sandals she was wearing, padding around the room barefoot as she twisted her hair up into a messy bun, rummaging in a nearby drawer until she found a flimsy elastic to hold it in place.  
  
         "So what had your knickers in a twist at breakfast?" she asked as she flopped down on the overstuffed sofa, beckoning him over with a lazy wave of her hand.  
  
         He wandered over slowly, a million excuses running through his mind only to be dismissed one by one, until he was left with either telling her about overhearing Draco or embarrassing himself with the only other problem on his mind. He decided the humiliation would be worth it …  
  
         "I've been a little mixed up lately," he admitted as he sank down into one of the incredibly soft chairs. "It's … well, it's Severus."  
  
         "Ahhh … I see." A pleased grin blossomed on his sister's face and Harry eyed her warily. What was she so happy about? "Little Brother has a crush, does he?"  
  
         Harry glared at her. "You make me sound like I'm twelve."  
  
         "No, if you were twelve, I wouldn't be sitting here smiling," Aiya said with a frosty tone, and Harry felt the prick of some distant pain invade his mind before Aiya was sealing away her emotions, adding, "I'd be telling you to kick him in the balls if he ever tried anything with you."  
  
         Harry raised a brow. "But since I'm not twelve …"  
  
         "As long as it's consensual, I'm all for it." A grin won through the serious expression on her face. "I love Severus, rotten attitude and all, and I think you could be the one to make him happy. In fact, I _know_ you can make him happy. It's what we Mori like to call _'maranwe.'_ "  
  
         " _Maranwe_?" Harry settled back in his chair, more relaxed now that he knew at least one person would be supportive of his … well, whatever it was that he had with Severus.  
  
         "The easiest definition is 'destiny,'" Aiya translated, tucking her legs underneath herself and resting an elbow on the arm of the sofa. "Without getting into the mumbo-jumbo some of the older Mori like to drone on about, it's basically saying that certain people fit together better than others … and that there is one person who will fit you the best. The Mori think describe it as magic calling magic, soul calling soul. It's rare to ever find _maranwe_. For example, my parents aren't _maranwe_ , even though they love each other very much."  
  
         "But how could you know that Severus is my … my _maranwe_?" Harry really didn't like to think that his attraction to Severus was just another trick of Fate - he'd had enough of Fate screwing him over.   
  
         Aiya smiled. "When I first came to Hogwarts as a child, I latched onto Severus right away. I was determined to make him my friend, and before long we were very close. I did a reading for him during our second year that didn't make him too happy. I told him the Spirits said he had one chance at true happiness - that he would find his _maranwe,_ but that it would be the child of his greatest enemy. He thought I was teasing him and I don't think he took it too seriously, but after that reading I started to dream of you, Harry. My Little Brother-to-be." She laughed at the disbelieving look on his face. "Yes, that's exactly how Severus looked when I first told him. He's been in denial ever since you were born, but now it looks like he's coming around."  
  
         Harry didn't know what to say. He chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip. If he and Severus were somehow cosmically linked, wouldn't he have felt it before? Why now, all of a sudden, was he drawn to the man so forcefully? Why now did all the animosity and anger between them evolve into such blinding passion? He must have been broadcasting his thoughts loud and clear because Aiya laughed.  
  
         "Harry, I've told you before: _stop thinking like a human_. It might have taken years of emotional growth and re-evaluation before you could admit to yourself as a human that you felt more than dislike for Severus, and even then you would have dreamed up a hundred excuses as to why you should just ignore those feelings and forget they even existed. As a Mori, that choice is taken away from you. You're living by instinct, and when you try to fight that instinct it's almost painful, isn't it? Something stirs inside you whenever you see him, yes? Something hot and restless and searching … and _powerful_. Does any of this strike a bell?"  
  
         Harry nodded reluctantly.   
  
         "Your magic is calling his magic. Your soul is calling his soul. Or at least that's how the Elders put it." Aiya smiled.  
  
         "If he knew about this, why was he such an asshole to me all of these years?" Harry asked with a frown.  
  
         "Hmmm … well, he's human, so at first he tried to deny it. He probably thought the best way to distance himself from you was to be as nasty as he could be and make you hate him. Plus, I'm sure he was pretty pissed off that the one person who could make him happy just happened to be the son of the one person who had made his life hell during school," Aiya said dryly. "Take your worst enemy, give him a son, then see if you'd like it."  
  
         Harry shuddered. Okay, so that was understandable. He just wished Severus could have seen past his hatred for James and made Harry's life a little easier. _Of course, there were all those times he saved my life_ , Harry thought to himself. _And I've always known where I stand with him … at least, until this year. And he doesn't put me on a pedestal like everyone else, which is a nice change._ It didn't solve all of his problems concerning this new relationship, but at least it gave him something to work with.   
  
         "So did I help? Or just make things worse?" Aiya grinned, then fidgeted a little, leaning forward to add, "Err, don't tell Severus I told you all that, okay? I don't think he'd be too happy with me."  
  
         "My silence can be bought … at a price," Harry said with a grin.  
  
         "Watch it, Harry," she wagged a finger at him in warning. "Your Slytherin side is showing."  
  
         He stiffened slightly but Aiya missed it, her attention turning to the clock on the wall. He'd managed to forget all about the Draco incident while they talked about Severus, but the mention of Slytherin had sent Harry straight back to what he'd overheard. Disgusted, he tried to push the thoughts aside.  
  
         "I suppose we should get started," Aiya was saying, then she suddenly turned to Harry, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you okay?"  
  
         Harry reinforced the barriers in his mind, giving Aiya his most innocent smile. "Yes, of course I am. Well, as okay as a person can be who just found out it's his fate to snog his Potions professor."  
  
         Her puzzled frown dissolved into a smile. "Oh, I'm sure it's such a hardship for you. Poor, poor Harry."  
  
         He chuckled, not resisting when she pulled him to his feet and led him over to the left side of the room, right by a shadowy corner. Harry watched as the dog-pile of shadows pulsed slowly in their slumber, as if some dark creature was breathing deeply in and out, and he looked up at Aiya expectantly. "So, what are we starting with?"  
  
         "I want you to get used to the _ia_ … that is, the void. The Mori can move from shadow to shadow, and we call that place between shadows the 'void.' When you are fully within the void, it's like being in a dark bubble - everything is silent and formless - but there are also advantages to being on the threshold of the void, cloaked in shadows but still able to hear and see the world beyond the void. I won't take you fully into the void until you've mastered hiding on the threshold first."  
  
         "If the void is silent and formless, how do you know which direction to go?" Harry thought it sounded a lot like apparition, but without the cracking sound or the possibility of splinching himself. Frankly, it sounded like a better way to travel, or at least a less risky way.  
  
         "The shadows guide you. They transport you from one place to another, so it's not as if you're stumbling around in the void looking for an exit. You'd be surprised at how accurately the shadows follow unspoken commands. They're very attuned to our moods and thoughts."  
  
         For the next few hours, Aiya taught Harry how to submerge himself into the shadows, letting their cold bodies embrace him as he sank into darkness, hovering just on the edge of the void. He could tell when he was at the threshold because it felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff with nothing but open air behind him, a disconcerting and somewhat alarming sensation, but one he quickly adapted to as Aiya brought him in and out of the shadows. He couldn't tell what it looked like when he was fully enveloped by the shadows, but he knew from watching Aiya that her physical form seemed to vanish straight into the wall, and only his awareness of her strong presence alerted him to the fact that she had not fully crossed over into the void. Once, he stuck his hand into the seemingly empty shadows and accidentally hit her in the stomach, proving that though she was hidden, she didn't actually go anywhere. It took him longer than he expected to make the transition on his own. Every time he tried, he would leave some part of him exposed, and Aiya would laugh at how strange it was to see a disembodied nose or ear or finger floating in the air.  
  
         "I used to scare people all the time, popping out of shadows," she said as they took a break for lunch. Neither of them had wanted to make the trek to the Great Hall, so they were seated in one of the adjoining rooms that served as a small kitchenette with a tiny table and two chairs where they ate turkey sandwiches (Aiya reiterated again how much better food tasted when it was 'cooked with love') and chatted. "I wasn't very careful back then. It's a wonder I lasted as long as I did."  
  
         "Who else knew that you were a Mori? Besides Dumbledore, of course." Harry took another bite of his sandwich, heartily agreeing with his sister's theory about cooking.  
  
         "I told Severus, but that was it. Madam Pomfrey knew, but she's so devoted to Dumbledore that I never worried about her knowing. I'm not sure if any of the teachers knew … but three other students discovered my secret not long before I left." Aiya suddenly seemed more interested in her sandwich than in continuing the conversation.  
  
         "Is that when Sirius and Remus found out?"  
  
         "Yes, they were in the infirmary at a time when I was … hurt. I don't think Madam Pomfrey remembered they were even there and they overheard her talking to Dumbledore about my 'special condition.' Dumbledore swore them to secrecy."  
  
         "And the third student?"  
  
         "Isn't worth talking about," Aiya said with a breezy smile that didn't quite carry to her eyes. She changed the topic quickly. "Severus told me the other day that he heard you using a Mori spell. What was it?"  
  
         Harry bit back his frustration at Aiya's secrecy and allowed her to steer the focus back to him. He'd wanted to ask her about the Mori spell anyway, and the voices that kept jabbering at him from time to time. "I'm not sure … it was during our first Occlumency lesson. I couldn't block Severus from my mind and I got so frustrated, but suddenly there was this squeaky voice in my mind telling me this spell … _amin naa_ _ung_ -something-or-other."  
  
         Aiya's eyes widened and she nearly choked on a mouthful of milk. She coughed a few times, clearing her throat before she croaked out, " _Amin naa ungue_?"  
  
         "Yeah, that's it." Harry laughed at her stunned expression. "I don't think it went very well … I couldn't feel _anything_ , not a single emotion … not even to be scared that I couldn't feel anything."  
  
         "That spell takes a lot of power and should only be used as a last resort," Aiya lectured him firmly, then she broke into a grin. "What a horrible thing for that spirit to tell you. Must've been a Warsong. They always think the strongest spells should be used for every little problem."  
  
         "That voice in my head was a spirit?"  
  
         "Ahh, yes, I suppose I forgot to tell you about them, huh?"Aiya said sheepishly. Swiping a crumb off her lip with her thumb, she sat back in her chair and organized her thoughts. "The Mori are all connected. Newborns have the weakest connection, which means they can only access their connections to immediate family and the Spirits. Once you become stronger as a Mori, you'll be able to connect with Mori you've never even met. It's a very tight-knit community of minds, and that strong connection survives even after death. The Spirits are Mori who have died. Their bodies are gone, but that connection remains. They tend to nurture the newborns, giving them advice and offering their wisdom, but mostly they will remain silent unless you call on them. Sometimes you won't even know you've done it … they react the most when you're frightened or upset."  
  
         _I hear dead people?_ Harry didn't think he liked the idea, and yet there was a part of him that felt comforted by the idea of the dead remaining close through their connection to the living. And it wasn't much different than how he felt sometimes about his mom and dad - he would think of them, or have some happy news he'd like to tell to them, and suddenly he'd feel warm and content and just know that they were with him   
  
         " _Amin naa ungue_ means 'I am hollow' in Elvish. I'm impressed you could perform it on your first try. It's a highly advanced spell." She beamed at him, obviously proud of her little brother.  
  
         "Are you sure there's not a manual for this?" Harry asked, hoping against hope that Aiya would suddenly remember to give him a copy of ' _Everything You Need To Know About Being A Mori_.'  
  
         "I know it's hard, Harry." She commiserated with him, leaning across the table to ruffle his hair playfully. "If things were different, everything would have been explained to you before you were turned. You would have lived with a Mori family, learned Mori culture … but we didn't have time to prepare you like we should have. That's why we're having these lessons, see?" She gave him such an encouraging smile that he couldn't help but smile back.  
  
         This time, it was Harry who changed the subject. "So were you an artist before coming here to teach?"  
  
         "Well … I paint. But it's more of an obsession than an occupation," she replied with a grin. "I've had dozens of 'real jobs', and I've lived all over the world. We were always moving around when I was younger what with my dad - he's what you might call the leader of the Mori - overseeing the various Mori settlements around the world and my mom working as a Healer. She acts as midwife at as many births as she can because it's impossible for an expectant parent to give birth at a hospital like anyone else. There's no way to have a baby while maintaining a 'dimmed' appearance, so all newborn Mori are delivered at home. Anyway, my last job was as a sketch artist for the police department in New York City. Big cities are the best places to live in because you can blend in so much easier. I've lived in Paris, London, Prague, New Orleans, Tokyo …" She shrugged a shoulder. "Well, you get the point."  
  
         "Wow," Harry was amazed that Aiya had been so many places. Up until age eleven, he hadn't really been anywhere but Privet Drive.  
  
         "Wait, I have pictures!" Aiya leapt up from her seat and ran out of the room. There were sounds of banging and objects being tossed around before she came back, a leather-bound photo album clutched triumphantly against her chest. "Come into the other room so we can look at them together."   
  
         Amused by his sister's exuberance, Harry obediently followed her into the other room and sat down by her side on the comfortable sofa. Aiya opened the photo album and started showing Harry all sorts of pictures, all with Aiya's Mori features left undimmed and an inhuman glow to her skin: Aiya as a five-year-old with pigtails and a toothy grin; Aiya sitting on her father's shoulders; Aiya as an eleven-year-old dressed in school robes at the train station; Aiya's mother and father smiling at the camera while standing on the deck of some ship; an older Aiya with her arm around a shorter, dark-skinned morwen with amber eyes and the same runes tattooed on the backs of her hands as Aiya had.  
  
         "Who is this?" Harry broke in, pointing at the woman.   
  
         "That's Callie … Callandra Warsong, she used to be, but she married a Muggle about six years ago and now she's Callie Lennox." Aiya smiled. "She was my partner in crime for most of my life. She lives in Muggle London now and we don't get to see each other as often, but the connection's always there."  
  
         There were other pictures of Aiya with Callie, many of them at packed clubs or rock concerts, and Harry couldn't help but think his sister was a bit wilder than the average Mori. There were other Mori in several of the pictures, all of them de-dimmed, and he wondered if it was voluntary or if a camera pierced the dimming and revealed a Mori's true appearance.  
  
         Near the end of the book, Harry spotted a loose picture that seemed to be moving and he picked it up. It was the only picture in the entire album where the people captured by the camera were moving, and he took a closer look: two children, roughly the same age, sat side by side on what Harry recognized as the bleachers on the Quidditch field. The girl was obviously Aiya - she looked like a porcelain doll, with her long black hair, pearlescent skin, delicate but entrancing beauty, and those bright purple eyes ringed with long, dark lashes. A sweet smile curved her pink lips and she waved happily at the camera, while the dark-haired boy with the strong, hawkish features sitting next to her looked torn between scowling and smiling, though his posture indicated a certain protectiveness towards the little girl.   
  
         "This is …" Harry's voice was thick with disbelief.  
  
         "Me and Severus," Aiya finished, a wistful smile ghosting over her lips before it was lost. "We were first years in that picture. It's the only picture I have from that time."  
  
         "You're  both so young." Harry smiled as the Severus in the picture finally decided on scowling as the tiny version of Aiya grabbed his hand and swung it back and forth between them. The more playful that the Aiya in the picture became, the more Severus would scowl, but he never once pulled away from her. Harry decided that even as a child Severus just didn't like to appear weak or foolish or even the slightest bit emotional.  
  
         "He looked out for me a lot," Aiya said. "I wish I could have stayed with him through all seven years. Maybe if I'd still been there, he wouldn't have …" she trailed off, leaving it unspoken how she felt about Severus's choice to join the Death Eaters.   
  
         Harry was just about to tell Aiya not to blame herself when there was a knock at the door. He blinked and looked at Aiya, silently asking, [Are you expecting someone?]  
  
         She frowned. [No, but it could be Dumbledore.] She paused, her expression brightening into something mischievous as she added, [Or maybe it's Severus? He seemed a little put-out at breakfast …]  
  
         Harry glanced a the door, a frown on his face. His instincts - the ones Aiya had told him to start paying attention to - told him that the presence outside Aiya's rooms didn't belong to Severus, but Aiya was up on her feet and on her way to the door before he could speak up.  
  
         [Go hide in the corner and let's see if we can scare him,] she said to him, punctuating her suggestion with a girlish giggle at the idea of pulling such a prank. Harry quickly did as she told him to do, but not for that reason - he had a feeling that it would be better if the person on the other side of the door didn't know that Harry was in Aiya's rooms.  
  
         [Ready?] she asked him, glancing over at the corner to confirm. Harry was fully hidden in the shadows, so she turned back to the door and opened it, still chuckling as she did so, but as soon as she saw who stood in the doorway Aiya's laughter caught in her throat, her voice full of shock when she finally regained her ability to speak:  
  
         "Draco? What are you doing here?"

 


	14. Losing Control (Part One)

 

       "Draco? What are you doing here?"  
  
       [Aiya? What is - ] Harry felt the barriers in Aiya's mind lock firmly into place, forcing him out of her thoughts so suddenly that the disorientation he suffered nearly caused him to lose his balance and fall backwards into the void. The shadows held him steady, their misty fingers stroking his cheeks and hair as if trying to comfort him.   
  
       "I think I may have left something here last night." Draco didn't wait for permission to enter, brushing right past Aiya and walking into the room as if he had every right to be there. Even on a Saturday, Draco dressed impeccably, forgoing the casual clothing worn by most of his schoolmates in favor of elegant black slacks, a crisp white dress shirt and hand-tailored forest-green robes. The robes were not fastened in front, however, showing off the way the tall boy's broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist.   
  
       _Last night?_ Harry clenched his fists. _What was Malfoy doing here last night?_ Again, his mind overflowed with an assortment of x-rated possibilities.   
  
       Aiya sighed and shut the door, her discomfort with the current situation evident in the way her eyes shifted from light lavender to dark indigo. "I told you that I can't see you on the weekends. Couldn't this have waited?"  
  
       Draco's icy blue gaze was unreadable as he looked at her. "It's a schoolbook. I need it to do my homework."   
  
       "Schoolbook … schoolbook …" Aiya's eyes narrowed in concentration before her eyes brightened and she flashed Draco a brilliant smile. "Ah, yes! Advanced Arithmancy, right? I was wondering where that came from … never liked Arithmancy myself, so I knew it wasn't mine. I put it in the bedroom. Wait just a minute and I'll go get it." She turned towards the bedroom but spied her robe laying forgotten on the floor and bent to pick it up - perhaps embarrassed by the idea of obsessively-neat Draco seeing her room in a state of messiness? Harry wasn't sure of her motivation, but he did know that Draco took the opportunity to check out Aiya's jean-clad arse as she was bending over, something Harry didn't appreciate at all.  
  
       Oblivious, Aiya flung the robe over her shoulder, giving Draco another sunny smile before she walked into the bedroom to fetch the book. As she went, she momentarily opened her mind to Harry and a flurry of her emotions overwhelmed him - fear, panic, confusion, sadness, guilt, self-loathing and (seemingly confirming his worst fears) desire - as she pressed a short, clipped command into his thoughts, [ _Stay put_.] And then her mind was closed off again and Harry was left reeling from the intense aftershocks of his sister's projected feelings.   
  
       _It's like she can't control herself around him_ , Harry thought to himself. It was the only explanation he could come up with since he'd never felt such strong, wild emotions from Aiya before. She'd always been very much in control of her feelings whenever her mind was open to Harry, and if she did let something slip, it was always contained and brief, never this violent outpouring of emotion, and certainly not with such anguished undertones. The only time he'd felt anything close to this was right after her fight with Kingsley, when he'd felt her fear running through him like it was his own.  
  
       Draco dropped the 'Ice Prince' act once he thought he was alone, loosening the top button of his shirt and running a hand through his white-blond hair. Harry watched intently as his rival wandered about the room with a familiarity that sent Harry's suspicions into overdrive. The blond spied the book of photographs lying open on the coffee table and bent over to look at it, flipping through the pages slowly. One picture in particular seemed to catch his eye and, looking over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, Draco slipped the picture out of its place in the album and shrunk it with his wand, tucking it into his shirt pocket.   
  
       "Found it!" Aiya called from the bedroom, giving Draco enough time to turn the album back to the page it was originally on, though it also sent the loose picture of Aiya and Severus floating to the floor. As Draco picked it up, he peered intently at the picture, recognition flaring in his eyes, and Harry's heart sank. The more that Draco learned about Aiya, the less likely it would be that they could keep her identity as a morwen hidden from him, especially if his sister was foolish enough to continue letting Draco come into her rooms whenever he pleased.  
  
       "I'm surprised you left it here," Aiya commented as she walked back into the room. "You don't strike me as the forgetful type."  
  
       Draco dropped the picture onto the open photo album and turned to face her, looking strangely flustered at first, but soon he had regained control of his expression and was smiling with practiced charm at her. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you."  
  
       _Ugh_ , Harry thought. The last thing he wanted was a front-row seat for one of Draco's seductions, especially when it co-starred his sister.  
  
       "I highly doubt it," Aiya dismissed Draco's flirtatious behavior with a soft smile as she handed him his book.  
  
       "You shouldn't doubt me," Draco's voice was icy but his eyes were feverishly blue, "about anything."  
  
       Aiya maintained her fragile smile. "I believe what you told me about your situation, don't worry. But as for this," she gestured between the two of them, "I think you're so used to playing the game, Draco, that it doesn't matter to you who you play it with anymore. I don't want that."  
  
       "What if it isn't just a game?" The disparity in their heights gave Draco a distinct advantage over Aiya, forcing her to look up at him as he moved closer, his fingertips ghosting over her bare shoulders as it looked like he would pull her to him.  
  
       She easily side-stepped him, pointing towards the door. "You have your book. Go study." Through it all, she'd kept that smile firmly in place, and even indulged in a silvery laugh when Draco scowled at her. "Do you think that frightens me? Go do your homework."  
  
       "Can we meet Monday night?" Draco looked away from Aiya only long enough to flip through the book, pausing somewhere in the middle to secure something that was hidden between the pages before he closed it with a snap and rested his gaze on her once more.   
  
       _That must be the book he was looking for earlier_ , Harry thought. He was more curious than ever to discover what was so important that Draco had hidden in it.  
  
       "Yes, fine," Aiya said, apparently frustrated by Draco's persistence. "Just go, will you?"  
  
       Draco smirked as if he'd won some sort of victory, then he nodded and walked to the door, giving Aiya one last look before he walked out of the room, the door closing with a click behind him.  
  
       Harry waited a few seconds before popping out of the shadows, his eyes blazing a fierce jade as he confronted his sister. "What the hell was that all about?"  
  
       Aiya rubbed at her temples. "Don't start in, Harry. It isn't what you think."  
  
       "You let that .. that … that _Death-Eater-in-training_ into your rooms? Are you mad, Aiya?"  
  
       "He's not a Death Eater," Aiya said, walking back over to the couch and sinking down on it wearily.  
  
       "His father is," Harry said, and his eyes narrowed as he saw Aiya flinch. "What is it with you and Malfoy's father? One mention of Lucius and - " he didn't even have to finish the sentence as Aiya jerked again, as if the mere mention of Lucius Malfoy stung like the crack of a whip against her skin.   
  
       "You've met the man, Harry," Aiya tried to brush it aside. "He's a deceptive, sadistic son-of-a-bitch. Surely my reaction isn't so surprising?"  
  
       "Most people around here only react that way to Voldemort's name," Harry said, and Aiya's passive reaction to Voldemort's name and her previous reactions to Lucius's name were so drastically different that Harry believed Aiya feared the latter more than she feared the person most wizards could only refer to as 'You-Know-Who.'  
  
       Aiya didn't say anything, choosing instead to straighten the photo album, carefully tucking the picture of herself and Severus into a safe place, almost reverent in her treatment of that treasured photo. The sight of the photo prompted Harry to try a new tactic in getting Aiya to open up to him, not only about Draco but about Lucius as well. "Draco was looking at your pictures. He even took one, though I'm not sure which it was, but every Mori in there is undimmed, Aiya, including you. Will he know what that means? And he saw the one of you and Severus." Aiya grew pale but kept her silence, and Harry wanted to scream his frustration at his sister's secretive nature. "What if he tells his father that his new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher once went to school at Hogwarts? And that she was friends with Severus? Would Lucius recognize your name?" An awful, awful thought occurred to Harry and he asked quietly, "Did Lucius find out what you are, Aiya? Was he that other student?"  
  
       "Draco won't tell his father anything," Aiya said, pushing herself to her feet as she picked up the photo album and walked towards the bedroom. Harry jumped to his feet and followed her.  
  
       "How can you be so sure?"   
  
       "Instinct." Aiya placed the album inside the trunk in her bedroom and quickly closed the lid.   
  
       _Why won't she confide in me?_ It hurt him to think that Aiya didn't trust him enough to tell him what was really going on. Harry resolved to interrogate Severus on the matter of why Aiya feared Lucius so much, but the problem of what Draco was doing in Aiya's rooms still nagged at him. He decided to be blunt; it was the only way he could force Aiya to give him a straight answer. "Just tell me you aren't fucking him."  
  
       Aiya gave a short, bitter laugh, then turned to look at Harry with a sad smile. "I'm not fucking him."  
  
       Harry leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "But you want to." He'd felt his own desire enough lately to know that what he'd felt bursting out of Aiya earlier was pure lust.  
  
       Aiya looked disgusted with herself, and Harry immediately regretted the accusation, not realizing how much it would hurt his sister to hear it spoken out loud like that. When she responded, however, it was with a clear, calm voice. "I also get a strong urge to sunbathe every so often; doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to do it. Besides, I'm sure Draco has been taught that sex is just another weapon … another way to manipulate the people around him. I meant what I said to him … _I don't want that_."  
  
       "So why are you letting him come back on Monday?"  
  
       "I'm just tutoring him, Harry," she said. "He said he needed extra lessons in Defence and I agreed to help him out."  
  
       Harry knew she wasn't lying, but he also sensed there was something more to it than she was willing to say. _I guess I should be used to people not telling me things by now_ , he thought to himself, and with a shrug of his shoulders he turned away. "Fine. Just be careful. You may think he's harmless, but I know better."  
  
       "Oh, you mean like Sirius and Severus know better than to trust each other?" Aiya followed him out of the bedroom, suddenly back in 'big sister' mode as she lectured him. "If you tell me that your instincts say Draco is evil, I'll believe you, but is it really your intuition you're relying on here, Harry? Or is it prejudice?"  
  
       Harry could see her point, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Part of him still felt like Draco was pulling the wool over Aiya's eyes, blinding her to the fact that he was just another cold-hearted Malfoy. "How can you be so sure that Draco isn't exactly like his father?"  
  
       Aiya sighed, pulling her little brother into a warm hug as she rested her head on his shoulder. "Because I believe Draco is as much a victim of Lucius as anyone else. That's why I think there's still hope for him … and that's why I can't just dismiss him. Trust me, Harry. I can take care of myself where Draco is concerned. Don't worry about me."  
  
       _Easier said than done_ , Harry thought as he hugged her back, but he considerately kept his thoughts to himself.  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
       Harry persuaded Aiya to put off any more training until the next day, and they spent the rest of their time together talking about things like Aiya's nomadic lifestyle and Harry's love of flying, just sharing bits and pieces of their lives with each other to build on the strong bond already developing between them. Harry learned that Aiya's favorite color was blue, that she loved loud clubs packed with people, and that she'd once had a spectacularly huge crush on Sirius (Harry wasn't all that surprised), and Aiya learned that Harry couldn't stand to apparate, that he'd spent most of his sixth year worrying more about coming out of the closet to Ron and Hermione than worrying about Voldemort, and that he'd once had a brief crush on Sirius, too (they had a good laugh about that).   
  
       "You know," Harry leaned back in his chair as the two sat in the little kitchenette, empty dishes and cups the only evidence of their late supper, "Sirius isn't seeing anyone …"  
  
       Aiya rolled her eyes. "Don't even _try_ to play matchmaker, Harry. I gave up on Sirius ever noticing me a long time ago. Besides," she smiled at him, "I have my hands too full of being a teacher and keeping my little brother out of trouble," she playfully smacked his arm when he scoffed at her, "to even worry about romance."  
  
       "It was just a thought," Harry said, but despite her protests he was already calculating just how to get his sister and godfather together. He couldn't forget how easily the two of them kept up a teasing banter, or the way they interacted in Dumbledore's office that was oddly reminiscent of how another couple close to him behaved. _And it would get her mind off of Draco_ , was the thought that clenched it for Harry, and he added ' _Get Sirius and Aiya together_ ' to the long list of tasks he needed to complete.   
  
       "Worry about your own love life," she said with a grin, laughing when Harry's cheeks grew red and his eyes brightened to a sparkling aquamarine. "You are so transparent, Harry. No wonder Severus loves tormenting you so much."  
  
       "Torment … what an accurate way to describe it," Harry grumbled.  
  
       By the time he left Aiya's room, it was very late and the halls were eerily quiet. _Hmm, better not stay this long next time_ , was Harry's nervous thought as he climbed the first set of stairs on his way to the Gryffindor dormitories. Moonbeams streamed in through the many windows along the hallways and Harry found himself glowing intermittently as he walked through the patches of silvery light. _Forget street lamp, I probably look like one of those flashing neon signs in tavern windows_ , and the idea of it made him laugh until he heard footsteps approaching from behind him.  
  
       Harry paused between two patches of moonlight. The footsteps were close enough that Harry knew the person would see him clearly once he stepped into the next moonbeam. Should he make a run for it and hope they just thought they saw a ghost? (Nearly Headless Nick was known to wander this corridor from time to time.) Or he could always sink into the plentiful shadows until the person passed on by. He'd finally decided to hide when he heard the person call out to him.  
  
       _Too late_ , he groaned, and he turned to see who it was that had called out his name.  
  
       "Sleepwalking, Potter?" asked the auburn-haired sixth year that Harry recognized as Rhys Wynford, a Ravenclaw prefect who, under different circumstances, might have caught Harry's interest with his strong, clean-cut features and almond-shaped eyes the color of freshly-ground cinnamon.   
  
       "Nah, I had to meet with Professor Graham and it ran a little late," Harry kept his voice cheerful, not betraying the panic he felt at being trapped into conversation like this. "Teachers. They don't care how it affects the students as long as they're not the ones being inconvenienced, right?" he joked, a little gratified to see the way Rhys was hanging on his every word. _I wonder if he's still a beater for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team?_ he asked himself absently, completely unaware of the way Rhys was slowly moving towards him until the two of them were mere inches away.  
  
       "Err," he began awkwardly, but Rhys interrupted him.  
  
       "Listen, Harry, I was wondering … well, if you fancied anyone at the moment." Rhys's jovial expression had turned serious very quickly, and Harry found himself backing away in response.  
  
       "Uhh … well, yes, actually …" Harry forced out, his stomach tied in knots. He wasn't good at rejecting people (he hadn't really had much practice at it, after all) and from what he knew about Rhys, he was a likeable guy that Harry might have willingly dated had things been different.  
  
       Rhys looked crushed, his cinnamon gaze dropping to the floor for a few seconds before he suddenly looked back up at Harry. "Do you mind … I mean, can I ask … who?"  
  
       _Oh, certainly, it's Professor Snape,_ he sarcastically pretended to say. Harry knew that Severus was the last person he could name, but suddenly his mind went blank and he couldn't think of anyone else's name to give instead. _Severus, Severus, Severus_ , his mind went, clickety-clack, like the chugging of a train, and his mouth wasn't faring much better as disjointed words stumbled out, "Well, I can't really  … that is, I shouldn't … ummm … it's funny you should ask …"  
  
       Rhys's eyes narrowed and he took another step closer to Harry. "There really is someone else, isn't there?" and Harry realized the boy probably thought he was just making up another bloke to let him down easy.   
  
       _Think of a name,_ he screamed at himself, but all that came out of his mouth was, "Yes, of course there is … it's … it's …," and just as Rhys took another, more menacing step forward, Harry took a big step back ... right into the moonlight.  
  
       "Sweet Merlin," Rhys whispered, and Harry froze. He knew from experience just exactly how he looked - the way his already pale skin glowed a ghostly shade of white, appearing as radiant and luminous as moonlight itself, and how the incandescent luster of his skin emphasized the green of his eyes until they, too, seemed to glitter in the moonlight in shades of emerald and jade and turquoise.   
  
       "I … I can explain," Harry started to say, miserably, but Rhys didn't seem to be listening.  
  
       "Gods, you're beautiful," he said, and he slipped an alarmingly strong arm around Harry's waist ( _yes, definitely still plays Quidditch_ , Harry confirmed somewhere in the far reaches of his mind) and pulled Harry into an unexpected and unwanted kiss.  
  
       Harry immediately pushed the boy away, gasping in air after Rhys practically sucked every drop of oxygen from his body, but only had time to get in a, "What the hell are you doing?" before Rhys had forced himself on Harry again, this time roughly pushing Harry against the window so hard that Harry was afraid it might break. The last thing he needed was to explain to Madam Pomfrey how he'd managed to impale himself on shards of glass while taking a simple walk through the school corridors.  
  
       _Am I actually being assaulted?_ Harry couldn't believe something like this was happening to him, but the reality of Rhys's intentions were made clear when he felt the boy's hand on the zipper of his jeans. Harry struggled wildly, his sounds of protest muffled by the kiss, but Rhys ignored him and nudged his knee between Harry's thighs, using his leg to try and force Harry's legs apart. All rational thought took a back seat as Harry's Mori instincts flared to life and he commanded the shadows around him to pull the amorous boy away and fling him against the opposite wall. Rhys's body hit the stone with a sickening crack and he slid down to the ground looking quite dazed, but Harry didn't wait around to find out if he was okay. Instead, he sank into the shadows and crossed over into the one place he knew Rhys couldn't follow …   
  
       ... the void.

 


	15. Losing Control (Part Two)

 

       Almost instantly, Harry was surrounded by impenetrable darkness and silence - even his heartbeat was muffled, but thoughts still echoed in his mind. He felt the presence of shadows even in that black abyss he'd ventured into out of sheer panic, and they enveloped him in a comforting cocoon, awaiting his command. [ _Somewhere safe_ ,] was all he told them, and he felt a small tug on his hand that led him blindly through the darkness for several agonizing seconds before he felt a threshold open up, passing through it into light and sound and air. The instant the shadows released him, Harry sank to his knees, breathing deeply to calm his racing pulse as his heartbeat pounded in his ears.  
  
       "Harry?" The delightfully familiar voice drew Harry out of his stupor. He tried to get back on his feet but his legs didn't seem to want to work just yet. Strong hands took hold of his upper arms and helped him up, and Harry clung to the untucked shirt of the man in front of him. The shadows, at his command, had brought him directly to Severus's sitting room. _This is my 'someplace safe?'_ Harry asked in wonderment, but he decided to analyze that later …  
  
       "Where did you come from?" Severus walked Harry over to the couch, running his hands over Harry's body as if checking for injuries.  
  
 _I think this is the most gentle he's ever been with me_ , Harry thought, and it wasn't until Severus repeated the question a second time that Harry snapped back to attention and answered him in fractured sentences. "I was … walking back to the dormitory… and the moonlight … and then Wynford kissed me … and he wouldn't stop … so I made the shadows  … _hurt him_ ," these two words said in a quiet, tortured voice, "… and I told them to take me someplace safe."  
  
       It was hardly Harry at his most coherent, but Severus didn't seem to need a translator to interpret what Harry was telling him. His eyes narrowed into two slits of furious onyx, his voice deceptively soft and calm as he asked, "Rhys Wynford from Ravenclaw?"  
  
       Harry nodded and suddenly Severus was on his feet, tucking in his shirt and walking into the bedroom, leaving Harry to stare after him in confusion. Seconds later, Severus stalked back out, shrugging into his robes and heading for the door.  
  
       "Stay here," he ordered Harry, and he disappeared before Harry could find the words to stop him.  
  
       _That can't be good_ , was Harry's weary assessment, but he didn't have the strength to get up and chase after Severus, especially if that meant seeing Rhys again so soon. The boy was a year younger than him, for Merlin's sake, but there had been a freakishly-determined strength in Rhys that had terrified Harry to the point that his brain went on autopilot. For the second time that day he was reminded of how Aiya had reacted to Kingsley at Grimmauld Place. Now he could understand the instinct for survival that had prompted her to attack the Auror so viciously. He reached out to her, latching onto their connection like it was a lifeline.  
  
       [Aiya, you have to stop Severus,] he pushed the frantic thought into her mind. He knew she could sense the remnants of fear and panic in him, and he quickly sent her a mental synopsis of the events in the hallway.  
  
       [Don't worry, Harry.] Aiya reassured him. [What floor did you leave him on? I'll find him before Severus does.]  
  
       [Third floor, far left corridor,] Harry told her quickly.  
  
       For a second Aiya was silent, then she added softly, almost sadly, [I'm sure Rhys didn't mean to hurt you, Harry. Humans can get a little carried away when they want something …] and after a quick mental hug, Aiya was gone to rescue the sixth-year Ravenclaw from whatever tortures Severus was planning to inflict on the boy.  
  
       "I feel so stupid," Harry said to the empty room, feeling weak as well. "How can I fight Voldemort when I can't even fend off one horny teenager?"  
  
 _You threw him against a wall. I'd call that 'fending him off,' wouldn't you?_ A voice in his head chimed in.  
  
       Ahh, great. Some dead guy was talking to him again. "The shadows did that, not me," Harry said.  
  
 _The shadows are only tools. You gave the command._  
  
       "Do you think I really hurt him?" Harry couldn't help replaying the loud cracking sound of Rhys's body hitting the stone wall over and over in his mind.  
  
 _Humans are tougher than they look_ , the voice assured him. _I'm sure all you did was knock some sense into him._ A pause. _At most, he'll have a concussion._ Another pause. _Or maybe a broken bone or two …_  
  
       "Okay, I get it." Harry cut the voice off before anything more could be said, enclosing his mind in that protective black curtain that kept the spirits at bay.  
  
       He stretched out on the couch and threw an arm over his eyes to block out the faint glow of lamplight that illuminated the room. He didn't think he was going to be able to sleep after what had happened, but soon he was dozing peacefully, the strain of the day having taken its toll. He didn't know how long he slept that dark, dreamless sleep, but he did recallthe sensation of floating off the couch only to land somewhere softer that smelled distinctly of Severus, hints of sandalwood and patchouli and other musky, earthy scents teasing his senses. He was vaguely aware of hands tugging his shirt over his head, baring his chest to cool air, then sliding down his body to the waistband of his jeans to unfasten them. The night's previous events overlapped with the present in Harry's sleep-drugged mind and he began to struggle out of fear.  
  
       "You're safe," a rich, velvety voice assured him from above, and Harry opened his eyes to see Severus straddling his body, his shirt hanging open and giving Harry an arousing view of that lean upper body, and the unbuttoned, unzipped dark trousers that were slung precariously low on Severus's slim hips. It wasn't a sight that allowed Harry to relax, exactly, but he certainly wasn't frightened ... that is, until the appearance of that oh-so-familiar cruel smile that spread across Severus's lips. "Or as safe as you can be with me." He finished unzipping Harry's jeans and pulled them down over his hips, abandoning his dominant position directly over Harry for a brief moment or two as he stripped the jeans off.  
  
       "What happened … out there?" Harry decided he needed to ask questions now while he could still speak coherently.  
  
       Severus didn't look inclined to discuss it, but he bit out a brief description. "Somehow, Aiya got to him first," he pinned Harry with that ruthless, penetrating gaze that always made Harry squirm like a worm on a hook, "and she took him to the Headmaster. I was not allowed to assist in the interrogation." And from the sour look on his face, it was plain that Severus was not pleased that he had been excluded.  
  
       "Is he hurt?" Harry's voice was thick with guilt; he still felt that he should have been able to handle the situation without ordering the shadows to toss Rhys around like a quaffle.  
  
       "Not nearly as much as he should be," Severus snarled, and he swiftly shrugged out of his shirt before leaning over Harry's body once more, his knees on either side of Harry's thighs as he captured his mouth in a fiery, possessive kiss that was as therapeutic for Harry as it was enticing. Somehow, Severus managed with one kiss to drive away all of Harry's memories of the kisses forced on him only a short while ago.  
  
       When Severus finally broke away, Harry was panting and his erection was tenting the black boxers he wore, rubbing occasionally against Severus's thigh as he continued to straddle Harry's half-naked body, long fingers tracing lightly over Harry's collar bone, then down his chest, roughly pinching Harry's nipples, then gliding down to Harry's stomach where Severus seemed to enjoy the jump and play of Harry's muscles beneath his hands as he gasped for air between moans of encouragement.  
  
       Those hands soon found their way to the elastic of Harry's boxers, just the tips of his fingers curling around the waistband, but he didn't pull them down yet. He simply stared at Harry's flushed body, his gleaming, jet gaze trailing from Harry's kiss-swollen lips to the taut, rosy nipples that begged to be teased again, to the straining erection that fought to be free of the thin fabric of Harry's boxers. The cruel smile flickered on Severus's thin lips and he pulled his hands away from the boxers, prompting Harry to wriggle beneath him in frustration.  
  
       "I am suddenly reminded," Severus had adopted the cold, tyrannical persona of Potions professor once again, "that you have yet to be punished for your insolent behavior in my classroom at the beginning of the week."  
  
       Harry didn't think it was possible, but at the word 'punishment' his cock grew painfully harder, and he could only manage a moan in acknowledgement of what Severus was saying.  
  
       "And there is also your continued disregard of the very important rule I gave you the night of the feast." He gently rubbed two calloused fingertips over Harry's tender nipple, then took the hardened nub between his fingers and thumb and twisted it harshly. "What was that rule, Harry?"  
  
       Harry cried out, arching his back in a plea for more of the painful pleasure Severus was inflicting on him. " _Oh gods_ … it was … was … don't wander the … the halls at n-night," he finally managed to answer.  
  
       Severus replaced his fingers with his mouth, soothing the abused bud with his tongue before languorously sucking it between his lips. He worked the sensitive flesh until Harry was whimpering beneath him, then switched to the opposite side and gave the same lavish attention to Harry's other nipple.  
  
       " _Please …_ " Harry whispered but he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. Severus bit him and Harry's hips bucked in response. _Oh yes_ , he thought, _more of that._  
  
       With one last lick of his tongue over the tormented nipple, Severus sat back and studied him once more, smirking his satisfaction. "I love to hear you beg, Harry."  
  
       Harry glared at him, more irritated by the fact that Severus had stopped than by the mocking comment he made, but his angry expression provoked a lecherous smile from the man straddling him as Severus added, "Though I think I prefer you like this … _fierce_ … _defiant_ …" he shoved Harry's boxers down his legs, freeing the younger man's weeping erection in one smooth motion, then wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed, "… the rulebreaker in desperate need of discipline."  
  
       Harry closed his eyes as a surge of heat suffused his body, all from the firm grip of Severus's hand around his cock that both stimulated and impeded Harry's pleasure, those long, clever fingers grasping him just tight enough to prevent Harry from fucking Severus's hand like he wanted to.  
  
       "Funny how you still haven't succeeded in disciplining me after seven years," Harry uttered hoarsely through gritted teeth, biting back a moan as Severus finally moved his hand up and down Harry's shaft, just once, and so painfully slowly that Harry opened his eyes to glare at the smirking older man. "You can punish me all you like, Severus," a victorious gleam appeared in Harry's jade eyes as he felt the unmistakable twitch of Severus's own erection against his leg upon hearing the sultry way Harry purred his name, "but you'll never really tame me."  
  
       Something primitive flared in the fathomless black of Severus's eyes, his fingers executing another torturously languid stroke of Harry's cock before asking in that dangerously soft tone of his, "Is that a challenge, Harry?"  
  
       "No, it's a promise," Harry quipped with a grin, taking advantage of Severus's loosened fingers to thrust twice into his fist before Severus tightened his grip once more, preventing his unruly student from further 'misconduct.'  
  
       "Is that any way to behave?" Severus gave Harry's cock another harsh squeeze, forcing a grunt from the boy beneath him, before he took his hand away altogether. Harry blinked, wondering if he'd pushed the man too far, but in the next instant Severus had crawled up Harry's body, still straddling him so that his knees were on either side of his body and his ass hovered over Harry's chest, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other slipped inside the open vee of his trousers and pulled out his throbbing penis. "Let's put that insolent mouth of yours to a better use, shall we?"  
  
       Harry wet his lips nervously, unaware of how that innocently simple action nearly broke his lover's control completely. He scooted himself into a more comfortable position, a little anxious about giving his first blow job, but he needn't have worried since it seemed Severus had no intention of relinquishing full control of the 'punishment' to his younger partner. Severus waited until Harry had curled his fingers around the thick cock facing him before he moved his own hand to cup the back of Harry's head. He prodded the tip of his cock, glistening with precum, against Harry's lips, a heavy sigh of pleasure exhaling from his mouth at the first tentative, swirling lick of the morion's tongue over the head. Harry's first taste of precum had him deciding the taste wasn't as unpleasant as he'd imagined it to be.  
  
       "All the way in," Severus said in the same steely, commanding tone that he used when overseeing Potions classes, but his fingers were gentle in their grip as they threaded into Harry's silky hair and guided his head forward.  
  
       Harry's eyes narrowed in unspoken defiance of the way he was being ordered about, but then the fingers in his hair tugged painfully, the rough treatment turning Harry on in ways he didn't want to examine too closely. When he moaned his enjoyment during a repeat of the hair-pulling, Severus took advantage of his parted lips and slid his way into Harry's open mouth, effectively muffling whatever protest Harry might have voiced at the sudden intrusion.  
  
       "If only I could always shut you up this easily," Severus teased him darkly, his chuckle evolving into a throaty moan as Harry got his revenge by swallowing as much of Severus's penis as he could. Severus let go of Harry's head and reached out so that both of his hands were now gripping tightly to the headboard. He began to slowly thrust in and out of Harry's mouth, pausing in his lazy rhythm only to hiss his praise for the way Harry was eagerly sucking him, " _Yesss_ … just like that, Harry. Such a fast learner … suck me just like that."   
  
       Severus's low, sexy voice tore a moan from Harry, his pleasure hummed around Severus's cock and prompting him to groan and hump Harry's face in short, quick thrusts for a brief time before he regained his control, his knuckles whitening from the way his fingers clamped onto the headboard for support. Harry, however, didn't _want_ Severus to be contained and controlled, so he slid both his hands around to clutch the man's delicious ass, greedily urging Severus forward as he taunted him with another pleasurable hum.  
  
       "Harry, don't - " Severus choked out in warning, but Harry didn't back down, enjoying the fact that he could manipulate his cold, composed professor into a frenzy like that. He couldn't help but buck his own hips in frustrated arousal when Severus finally caved in with a low, animal growl and began to relentlessly fuck Harry's mouth. Surprised and a bit overwhelmed, it was all Harry could do to remember to breathe through his nose as that hard, thick cock pistoned in and out of the stretched 'O' his lips made, gagging him whenever Severus managed to hit the back of his throat. Severus would slow his pace to allow Harry to recover, taking his inexperience into consideration, but that self-control never lasted longer than a few precious seconds before his hips began to rock faster. Harry looked up during one such respite and moaned at the sight of Severus's hawkish features twisted into a hungry, feral expression, the inky black of Severus's gaze focused intently on the sight of his cock pumping in and out of Harry's mouth, his hair plastered against his face and neck with sweat.  
  
       " _I want … you to swallow … every drop_ ," was his breathless but snarling command - and Harry's only warning - right before Severus exploded into release, filling Harry's mouth with hot, creamy come as Harry struggled to obediently swallow it all, managing most of it though a trickle or two escaped the corners of his mouth. Severus's hips jerked a few more times as he emptied the last of his seed into Harry's mouth before he pulled out, groaning at the slick, wet sound of Harry's lips releasing him.  
  
       Harry gasped in air, his jaw sore and his lips swollen from the rough treatment, but he thought it was a small price to pay to have Severus lose control like that. He was painfully aware of his own untouched erection, but it didn't look like Severus was about to return the favor just yet as he rolled away from Harry to lay on the opposite side of the bed, still catching his breath after his huge release.  
  
       Harry kicked his boxers off all the way and turned on his side, one hand reaching down to fist his own cock as he drank in the sight of Severus laying next to him. Severus had his eyes closed as he panted heavily, his pale skin dewy with sweat and his softening cock peeking out of the dark trousers he had yet to fully remove. Harry was so busy masturbating to the sight of Severus's half-naked body that he didn't notice when the older man opened his eyes.  
  
       "Did I say you could touch yourself?" he asked, his voice icy once more, and Harry jerked his hand away guiltily without a second thought, prompting Severus to smirk.  
  
       "You have such potential for obedience, Harry," he continued as he grasped the younger man's wrist and tugged him closer, raising his head to lick the stray come from the corners of Harry's mouth before he pulled Harry down into a slow, sensual kiss, only releasing him when Harry tried to deepen it. "I wonder what it would take to truly tame you?"  
  
       "Never going to happen," Harry said as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes brightening to an amused, grassy green. "Besides, I don't think you'd like me if I were tame …"  
  
       Onyx eyes narrowed in contemplation before a mocking smile curved Severus's lips. "Who says I like you _now_? Maybe I just have a taste for that pretty mouth of yours."  
  
       Twenty-four hours ago, this might have been the snarky comment that thrust Harry into an agony of self-doubt, but he wanted to believe that what Aiya said was true - that he and Severus were _maranwe_ , that this was destined - and he had a feeling that Severus believed it, too. It was the only explanation for why Severus had declared, ' _You're mine, Harry_ ,' so possessively on the night of the feast. The memory of that moment sent another spike of arousal through him, his cock twitching its distress as he grinned cheekily at his lover.  
  
       "You like me," he said confidently, chuckling at the scowl that crossed Severus's expression.  
  
       "You're an impudent brat," he growled, pulling Harry against him.  
  
       "A _horny_ , impudent brat," Harry corrected him with a not-so-subtle grind of his erection against Severus's thigh.  
  
       Severus nuzzled his neck, biting gently, then whispered huskily in his ear, "We can't have that, now can we?" and proceeded to rectify the situation.

 


	16. Dreams and Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief desription of the assault and torture (through magical means) of a minor

 

     Harry opened his eyes to blinding light, a light so harsh and bright that he knew it had to be manufactured somehow, perhaps a strong _lumos_ spell or even _fiat lux_ , which he'd seen Hermione perform after Ron accidentally spilled an entire jar of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder in the Gryffindor common room. He squinted his eyes against the overpowering glow. There was a strange, whispered chant coming from the center of the room where the light originated, and Harry realized immediately that he wasn't in Severus's bedroom any longer but somewhere dank and cold. _At least I'm probably still in the dungeons_ , he thought. Was this a dream? He hoped it wasn't one of his Voldemort-induced visions, because it still felt like he was at Hogwarts (the school had a magical presence all its own that he'd never felt anywhere else) and he'd hate to think that Voldemort had found a way into the school.  
  
     A high-pitched scream overpowered the sound of the chanting and Harry covered his ears, trying unsuccessfully to block out the heart-wrenching sounds of someone - a child? - in agony, the shrieks of pain lengthening into one tortured, keening cry. _I've heard that voice before_ , Harry thought. His tried to walk towards the circle of light but he found he could not move, only see and hear, forced to listen to the horrible cries but unable to help in any way. It was so similar to how he felt during his visions of Voldemort that Harry began to feel real fear that the unthinkable had occurred and there were Death Eaters inside Hogwarts. He knew instinctively that he would feel a lot better once the light was gone, and he was about to attempt a wandless _Nox_ when he heard footsteps rushing in from behind him.  
  
     " _Nox_!" A young, male voice beat him to the punch, and Harry felt immediate relief as the harsh light was smothered in darkness. He glanced over his shoulder to see a black-haired boy, twelve or thirteen years of age, who Harry instantly recognized as the childhood version of the man in whose bed he'd fallen asleep.  
  
     "Severus?" he said, disbelieving, but apparently the boy couldn't hear him because he just stared intently ahead, unable to see in the pitch-black darkness but obviously looking for something or someone. Harry followed his searching gaze back to the center of what he now recognized as one of the empty rooms in the dungeons that was sometimes used for dueling practice by the older students, though it looked as if it had once been used for the harsher 'old-fashioned' detentions that Filch was always rambling on about in fond remembrance.  
  
     His Mori eyesight allowed him to see what Severus could not: a teenager, perhaps Harry's age or a little younger, was kneeling over the bleeding body of a child, runic symbols and other markings carved into the flesh of the terrified youth. Arms, legs, back, torso … there was hardly any portion of the body left unmarked. It was hard to tell if the child was a girl or a boy the way it lay tucked up and curled into a fetal position, its dark hair matted with the same blood that covered the rest of its body, while its tattered clothing lay, forgotten, a few feet away. The teenager had stopped chanting the minute the light faded, rising to his feet and turning towards the unwelcome intruder that had interrupted him. His face was hidden from Harry by the upraised hood of a cloak, but he judged from the build and the posture that it was indeed a boy his own age. After a moment's hesitation, the mysterious attacker fled from the room, roughly shoving the young rescuer out of his way.  
  
     "Wait!" Severus shouted, angrily turning to chase after whoever had brushed past him, but the frightened, anguished cry of the wounded child seemed to freeze him in his tracks. Harry watched as the boy took a deep, shuddering breath, far less confident as he whispered, " _Lumos_ ," and lit the room with a soft glow from the tip of his wand. Harry could actually hear Severus suck in his breath at the sight of the child laying on the floor in a pool of blood, the fragile-looking body curled in on itself, that keening cry softer now as the child's vocal chords grew hoarse with overuse.  
  
     " _No, no, no_ ," the young Severus said, shaking his head to punctuate the tearful words, and he nearly tripped in his rush to get to the child, kneeling by its side in close to the same spot that the older teenager had been kneeling. "Who did it? Who did this to you?"  
  
     Harry could feel the dream around him begin to fade but he held on desperately, wanting to know who the child was. In his heart, he already knew - the way his protective instincts had flared up at the sight of the tortured body was enough confirmation, but he hoped he was wrong. He concentrated extremely hard, forcing the scene back into sharp focus as Severus began to desperately cast healing spells.  
  
     "Don't die," Severus pleaded at one point, and the child reached out and grasped his hand, as if wanting to comfort him even while it endured an agony of its own. Soon, it looked as if the wounds had stopped bleeding, though they never faded from sight.  
  
     "Help … me up … please," came the sweet, pain-laced voice, and Harry's heart clenched. Yes, he knew that voice, even with its yonger inflection. He would recognize it anywhere. _Aiya_. "My back … it hurts the worst … help me sit up, Severus, please."  
  
     With a tenderness that Harry hadn't thought possible, Severus gently eased Aiya up into a sitting position, giving Harry a glimpse of the intricate spellwork carved all over her back, one symbol in particular catching his eye - a serpentine dragon devouring its own tail, its body forming a perfect circle - before Severus had covered Aiya's wounded body with his robe.  
  
     "Who was it?" Severus asked again, though there was a flinty tone to his voice that suggested he already had a guess as to the identity of the culprit.  
  
     "I don't know," she whispered.  
  
 _She's lying_ , Harry thought, and then he said it aloud, "She's lying."  
  
     The young Severus suddenly looked straight at Harry, his face twisting into a mask of cold fury as he snarled, "Get out of my mind!" and just as quickly Harry was bolting awake, adrenaline surging through his body as his heart thumped wildly.  
  
 _What the hell kind of dream was that?_ he wondered, stunned to find that his cheeks were wet with tears. He quickly brushed them away with the backs of his hands, adding fervently, _Please let it have been a dream_. He couldn't get the sight of the blood and the wounds carved into his sister's skin out of his mind. _Just a dream, just a dream_ , became his mantra, and he slid out from under the covers of Severus's bed. Severus himself was nowhere to be seen, but Harry could feel the warmth still trapped in the side of the bed that Severus had slept on, so he couldn't have gotten up too long ago.  
  
 _I'm freezing, so it must still be nighttime_ , he thought to himself, shivering as he collected his boxers and jeans from the various places they'd been thrown and pulled them on. The side effect of _Dragon's Tears_ that he liked the least was the huge drop in his body temperature at night. His t-shirt proved harder to find, having been flung halfway across the room, but it did give Harry a chance to explore the inner sanctum that was Severus's bedroom. He was disappointed to find that the same cold, impersonal décor that filled the sitting room extended to the bedroom as well, though the color scheme was somewhat calming with its dark greens and blues. The bed was the only inviting thing about the room, large and luxurious with silk sheets and a downy coverlet, no curtained canopy like many other beds in the castle but with an ornate headboard (Harry couldn't look at it without blushing) and four tall posts. The other furniture in the room resembled what Aiya had in hers - the cherry-wood dresser, the customary trunk - but personal items were kept to a bare minimum, or were hidden away, though Harry couldn't see the point in needing additional privacy in a bedroom.  
  
 _Unless he has a lot of visitors_ , he grumbled to himself as he pulled on his t-shirt, not really wanting to know who else might have seen Severus's bedroom apart from himself. An elegant set of wizard's chess was set up in one corner of the room, which told Harry that Severus enjoyed at least one game that he himself played regularly. There were three doors in the room, one leading to the bathroom, another leading out to the sitting room, and the third one Harry decided must lead to a closet or some kind of storage room, but it was locked tight and resistant to spells. It was becoming clear that Severus liked to keep his private life safely under lock and key, so different from Harry whose emotions were always bubbling just beneath the surface, an open book to anyone who knew what to look for.  
  
     He gave up his fruitless exploration and walked towards the door to the sitting room. Only then did he notice the framed painting hanging on the wall. It was the sole piece of artwork in the entire room, a watercolor portrait of a young man. There was a vagueness to the features of the face but still with enough detail that Harry could see the similarities between that youthful face and his own, right down to the swirling green of his eyes. The initials A.H.E. were scrawled in the corner along with a date and Harry's eyes widened in amazement as he realized the portrait had been painted long before he was even born. So Aiya really had seen Harry in her dreams? And she'd given Severus this painting … while they were still in school? If so, then the fact that Severus had kept it all these years was even more shocking.  
  
 _If you're done poking around, you might want to pay attention to what's happening on the other side of the door_ , a childish voice whispered into his mind, one of the many Mori spirits that intruded on his thoughts whenever he let his guard down.  
  
 _I wasn't poking around_ , he protested, but his curiosity to find out what the voice was referring to won out over his determination to block out the 'helpful' spirits, and he continued over to the door that led out of the bedroom and into the sitting room, pressing his ear to the wood to catch muffled sounds of conversation. One voice belonged distinctly to Severus, the other … well, his best guess was that it was Dumbledore. Harry knew that as soon as he walked into the sitting room all conversation would stop, so he decided to put his new Mori skills to good use and manipulated the shadows so that he could cross over into the void, then edged out onto a threshold in a dark corner of the room, hidden from view but able to see and hear everything that was going on.  
  
 _If they'd just let me in on everything from the start I wouldn't have to sneak around like bloody James Bond_ , he thought bitterly to himself, but then his attention focused on the conversation going on between Severus and the Headmaster. Severus was looking uncharacteristically disheveled, his shirt only half-buttoned and hanging untucked over his dark trousers, his feet bare and his hair slightly tousled. He was sitting in an armchair with a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he listened to Dumbledore drone on …  
  
     "… and the boy will recover nicely once Poppy gets a few potions into him. I'm surprised Harry had the ability to command the shadows to such a degree; I was under the impression that fledgling Mori have only limited control of their gifts. In any case, young Mister Wynford has had his memory properly altered and a sufficient explanation for his injuries and his short-term memory loss has been provided. I do think we should strive to keep Harry from interacting with the boy for now, though as they are of different years and Houses, I don't see why that should be a problem - "  
  
     "Wynford is on Ravenclaw's Quidditch team," Severus reminded him, then he went back to nursing his whiskey, a blank expression on his face.  
  
     Dumbledore sat opposite the surly professor, smiling pleasantly though his eyes were a cooler shade of blue than usual. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. That match isn't scheduled until later in the year."  
  
     Harry was relieved to know that he hadn't done any lasting damage to Rhys, but he was a little annoyed that Dumbledore was just passing the incident off as a regrettable episode that could be easily handled with a memory charm and a few healing potions. What was to stop Rhys from seeking Harry out, regardless of whether they had classes together or saw each other on a daily basis? And what about the other students who were drawn to this Mori vibe Harry was giving off? An image of Aiya's blood-soaked body flashed into Harry's mind and he cringed. Was that what could happen to a Mori that caught the eye of the wrong person? He'd thought being assaulted in the hallway was bad enough, but he realized there were worse things that could happen … far, far worse.  
  
     "I cannot say, dear boy," Dumbledore was saying hesitantly, his eyes narrowing as if he were judging Severus's mood, "that I approve of Harry spending the night in his professor's bed."  
  
     Severus looked up, a hint of anger flaring into life in his pitch-black gaze before he quickly snuffed it out, replying calmly but with a touch of mockery, "I don't see why, Albus. It isn't a school night."  
  
     The Headmaster's smile had disappeared altogether by now and he leaned forward in his chair. "Then you don't deny you are sleeping with him now."  
  
     Harry was grateful no one could see him because he was sure his face was beet-red with embarrassment. The last thing he wanted was for Dumbledore to have the inside scoop on his sex life. He didn't think it could get much worse than that.  
  
     "He's still a virgin, if that's what you want to know," Severus said bluntly, and Harry realized he had been wrong. It could certainly get worse.  
  
     "Aside from my concern over Harry, I am also worried about you," Dumbledore insisted, not affected in the slightest by Severus's attitude or the fact that they were discussing whether or not the snarky professor had shagged the Boy-Who-Lived. "Your work requires a high level of concentration, Severus, and you and I both know that you can't afford to be distracted."  
  
     'Work' didn't mean overseeing Potions classes. No, Harry knew they were talking about Severus's work as a spy. He'd managed to push the fact that Severus masqueraded as a Death Eater to the back of his mind, but now the disconcerting reality of the situation descended on Harry and he opened his eyes to the truth: one wrong move, one tiny slip, and Severus could be killed. And still he willingly put himself into danger. Harry had never been adequately grateful for the role Severus played in the war against Voldemort, too caught up in his childish feud, but now he could understand and appreciate the risk Severus took every time he answered Voldemort's summons.  
  
     "I have agreed to look the other way when it comes to your time with Harry," Dumbledore continued, "as long as you do not forget your duty. If I feel that Harry is impairing your ability to successfully complete your work, I am afraid I will have to reconsider my decision to allow you unfettered access to him."  
  
     "I know my _duty_ ," Severus snapped. "It's my _duty_ that makes me want to spend every moment I can with him, while I still have the chance."  
  
     Dumbledore sighed, staring at Severus with a mixture of sadness and pity. "Yes, of course. I am sorry, Severus, if this upsets you, but you know as well as I do that having you as a spy is a tremendous asset to the Order."  
  
     "The Dark Lord hasn't summoned me since the failed assault on the Mori settlement. I think we should start considering the possibility that he is beginning to doubt my loyalty." Severus ran a weary hand through his lank, dark hair, showing signs of fatigue that went deeper than just a few hours missed sleep, as if even his spirit had fallen into a state of complete exhaustion, no longer able to bear the burdens placed on him. "The next time I am summoned might be the last time."  
  
     Harry's heart constricted at the thought of Voldemort killing Severus, and he felt a murderous rage well up inside him towards the dark wizard. He could hear the background chatter of the Mori spirits as they alternately cheered him on or strove to calm him down, but Harry stayed focused on the conversation between Severus and Dumbledore.  
  
     "I think you underestimate your importance to him," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet. "I'm not forbidding you to develop a relationship with Harry - it would ease my mind to see you finally happy - but be careful, Severus."  
  
     "I'm not some reckless teenager, Albus," Severus replied, though his tone was far less hostile than before.  
  
     "Of course not," Dumbledore agreed, the twinkle back in his eyes. "But Harry _is_ , so I'm counting on you to keep an eye on him. This unfortunate business with Mister Wynford is only the beginning, I'm afraid. Perhaps pulling Harry out of school would be the wiser choice?"  
  
     "I thought of that as well, but I know he wouldn't agree to it," Severus said. "The school is his refuge. He feels safer here than he would anywhere else."  
  
     Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're right. Good night, Severus." And he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.  
  
     As soon as Dumbledore was gone, Severus glanced around the room, his inky gaze searching every corner and nook as he said, "You can come out now."  
  
     Harry blinked. _How did he know?_ But he figured it was better to just do as he was told, and so he pulled free of the shadows' embrace, stepping into the light of the sitting room and crossing over to sit in the chair Dumbledore just vacated. "How did you know I was in the room?"  
  
     "I could feel you touching my mind," Severus said, staring unabashedly at Harry's body, letting his gaze roam idly. "I don't think you're aware of it, but you're constantly trying to get at my thoughts."  
  
     Harry was confused. He hadn't been prodding at Severus's mind on purpose, but he had to admit that he was constantly wondering what the stone-faced professor was thinking. Was he subconsciously using Legilimency? Or was it just a Mori thing?  
  
 _Mori thing_ , a voice piped up in his mind and he silently thanked whatever Mori spirit was listening for providing him with an answer. He was starting to see the advantages of having all those spirits ready and willing to answer his questions.  
  
     "Sorry," Harry said.  
  
     "Like I said, I don't think you're aware of it." Severus dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand, still holding onto his whiskey with the other.  
  
     There was a moment of tense silence between them before Harry broke it. "So I take it that I'm your reward for being a good spy?" The words came out in a bitter tone that he simply couldn't help - it was just so wrong of Dumbledore to say he would look the other way as long as it didn't interfere with Severus's 'work' for the Order, like he was using Harry as the perfect bribe to keep Severus in line.  
  
     "Great leaders always know how to motivate their troops," Severus said evasively, not really answering the question directly but confirming Harry's words all the same. "The Dark Lord does it with pain and fear - I think I prefer the Headmaster's approach."  
  
     "I don't want you to go the next time you're summoned." The words were out before Harry could stop them. He hated how he sounded so desperate and weak, but it brought an unexpected smile to Severus's lips.  
  
     "Would you miss me if I didn't come back?" he taunted, but Harry could tell that the smile tugging at the corners of Severus's mouth was genuine and not just a mocking smirk.  
  
     "Yes." Harry didn't bother to hide behind false bravado, baring his emotions openly. He didn't have a name for how he felt about Severus, but he did know that he would never feel truly complete if something were to happen that would separate them. They were just starting to feel each other out, testing the waters of this strange new relationship, and Harry refused to think it could end before it had even really begun.  
  
     Severus sighed, looking away from Harry for the first time. "I can't stop spying for the Order, Harry."  
  
     "Because of me?"  
  
     "Because it's necessary to winning this war."  
  
     Harry wanted to say, ' _To hell with the war,_ ' but he didn't think he'd get an enthusiastic response from Severus in return, especially after all the man had gone through already to provide the Order with an advantage in the struggle against Voldemort. What worried him now was the absolute dejection that showed through the faint cracks in Severus's expressionless mask whenever the subjects of the war or Voldemort were brought into conversation. Understanding slowly dawned in Harry's mind, and he knew now why Severus had suddenly seduced Harry, initiating the first steps of a relationship between them while he 'still had the chance,' according to his own words to Dumbledore.  
  
     "You don't expect to survive this war, do you?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
     Severus met his gaze evenly, allowing a brief flicker of raw emotion to gleam in the black depths of his eyes before a cynical smile curved his lips. "The odds aren't in my favor," he admitted, knocking back the rest of his whiskey.  
  
         "You're talking to someone who survived a Killing Curse to the head," Harry said with a lopsided smile. "I happen to believe in impossible odds."  
  
         Severus chuckled, his cold facade finally crumbling in the face of Harry's stubborn optimism. "Then believe for the both of us," he said as he stood up, placing his empty glass on a nearby end table before bending down to place a chaste kiss on Harry's forehead, ruffling his hair fondly. It was during a rare moment of tenderness like this that Harry could feel a tangible bond forming between Severus and himself, similar to the invisible connection he felt with Aiya but different at the same time ... deeper, somehow, and pulsing with magic.  
  
         "Go back to bed," Severus said as he pulled away, and before Harry could even ask, he was adding wearily, "Yes, _my_ bed. Really, Potter, do you honestly think I'd send you traipsing back to Gryffindor Tower at this hour of the night, especially after what happened earlier?"  
  
         Harry didn't dignify this with a response, especially since he _had_ been thinking Severus meant for him to go back to his own bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. Instead, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, feeling his own exhaustion for the first time since waking from that troubled dream ... or whatever it had been. "What about you?"  
  
         "I have some things to finish up first," Severus said absently, picking up a pile of papers from where he'd discarded them on the coffee table back when Harry had first stumbled into the room a few hours ago.  
  
         Harry nodded, tugging off his t-shirt as he went, but then he remembered another question he'd wanted to ask Severus. He turned back. "Do you know why Aiya is so afraid of Lucius Malfoy?"  
  
         Severus frowned, looking up from his papers to stare quizzically at Harry. "Lucius Malfoy? What makes you think Aiya is afraid of him?"  
  
         "She reacts to his name like most wizards react to Volde-" Harry paused as he saw Severus himself start to wince, and he quickly corrected himself, "I mean, You-Know-Who. And she said he is, and I quote, ' _a deceptive, sadistic son-of-a-bitch_.' I thought maybe something had happened between them while she was here at school."  
  
         Severus looked perplexed, surprising Harry when he said, "Actually, Lucius doted on Aiya. He was already in his fifth year at school when Aiya and I were first years, but he treated her like a favorite younger sister ... or, at the worst, like a pampered pet. Aiya had a way of attracting attention - she had a strong magical aura about her - and Lucius of course was drawn to anyone with even a hint of power. But I can't recall him doing anything to frighten her ... and she never said anything to me about any trouble between the two of them."  
  
         It just didn't add up in Harry's mind and he pressed on, encouraged by the fact that, for once, Severus was being open and honest with him, not shutting down or hiding behind his barriers like he usually did. It was a small victory, but one that made Harry exceedingly happy. "I think he might have found out that she's a morwen. She said three students found out before she left, and two of them were Sirius and Remus. I asked her if Lucius was the third but she never really answered me ..." Harry trailed off as he saw Severus's frown deepen.  
  
         "Three students?" Severus had abandoned the papers by now, intensely focused on what Harry was saying. "You say she told you _three_ students found out?"  
  
         "Yes, three," Harry confirmed, his eyes narrowing to slits of mossy green as he took a step towards Severus. "What is it? Did you think of something?"  
  
         But it was too late; Severus had reclaimed his usual stone-faced expression as he busied himself with shuffling through the papers in his hands, his drawling voice conveying his boredom with the topic as he turned away from Harry. "Whatever went on between Aiya and Lucius, she never told me about it. She keeps secrets from everyone, Harry, including me. She and I are a lot alike that way ... secretive to a fault."  
  
         _So close_ , Harry thought, and he walked back towards the bedroom door, defeated in his pursuit of answers but also brimming with confidence that he had managed to worm his way past the first of Severus's many barriers. He opened the door, then paused, asking, "Did someone hurt Aiya when she was a student? I had a dream ..."  
  
         "Go to bed, Harry," Severus ordered, a note of warning in his voice that told Harry not to push any further.  
  
         Harry shrugged and slipped back into the bedroom. Well, he'd tried, and the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that Lucius Malfoy and the dream he'd had about Aiya were tied together. _All the more reason to keep Aiya and Draco apart_ , he thought. _I always knew Lucius was a bastard, but why would he torture a little girl like that? Maybe it's some Malfoy 'coming of age' ritual._ He shuddered and stripped off his jeans, leaving just his boxers on as he climbed into the bed.  
  
         He hoped his sleep would be dreamless this time.  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *

 

         Severus waited until he could hear the deep, even breathing of Harry sleeping in the next room before he pulled on a pair of shoes and hurriedly buttoned the rest of his shirt, not bothering to fetch a robe. The late hour made his chances of being seen by anyone very slim - even the portraits would be fast asleep - so his appearance didn't matter much to him. With a last glance towards the dark bedroom, he exited his rooms and headed for the second floor in a quest for answers to his own burning questions.  
  
         "And this time I want the truth," he muttered to himself. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, Aiya."  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **fiat lux** \- an illumination spell of a more advanced degree of difficulty and strength than lumos  
>  **Mori** \- a race of dark creatures, means 'dark' or 'darkness' in Elvish  
>  **morion** \- a male Mori, means 'son of the dark' in Elvish  
>  **morwen** \- a female Mori, means 'daughter of the dark' in Elvish  
>  **the void** \- the name for the 'in-between' place that the Mori enter into when travelling through shadows  
>  **the threshold** \- the edge of the void, where a Mori can hide from sight in the shadows while still being able to see and hear everything going on around itself


	17. Spellbound

  
         Severus tapped impatiently with his wand at the stone that dismantled the illusion over the door to Aiya's room, then pounded his fist against the wooden surface, startling the sleeping blond-haired boy who occupied the nearest picture. He ignored the boy's drowsy stare, knocking again on the door when the first round of pounding received no immediate response.  
  
         "Yes, yes … I'm coming," came the muffled sound of Aiya's voice. She opened the door dressed in a green terry-cloth robe with her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her glamours so lazily conjured that one ear appeared perfectly rounded while the other was still distinctly pointed at the tip. Her guarded expression collapsed into a teasing grin as she looked up at Severus. "Oh, it's you. This had better be an emergency, Severus. You interrupted a really good dream with all that banging."  
  
         Severus walked past her into the room without answering, leaving Aiya to comment dryly, "Yes, do come in," before closing the door and following him into the room.   
  
         "You look awful," she added, her purple gaze taking in the sight of his tousled hair and untucked shirt. Severus paced a few steps, every movement imbued with a palpable tension, waiting until he had mastered his emotions before confronting Aiya.  
  
         "Why did you lie to me?" he asked in that quiet, menacing tone he usually reserved for intimidating his students.  
  
         Aiya stiffened but didn't answer right away, fiddling with the ties of her robe as she asked cautiously, "About what?"  
  
         "Lucius," he spat the name as if it was poison in his mouth, disappointment and anger glittering in his dark eyes. "You told me you didn't know who had attacked you, but it was Lucius, wasn't it." He didn't even bother to make it a question, knowing that whether she verbally confirmed it or not, the guilty, anguished expression on Aiya's pale face was proof enough that his words rang true.  
  
         "I need a drink," she said after a moment of strained silence, walking into the tiny kitchenette, calling back over shoulder, "Whiskey?"  
  
         Severus glared at her retreating back but grudgingly replied, "Make it a double."  
  
         He threw himself wearily into an armchair, trying to mentally prepare himself for the discussion to come but finding it harder than ever to shove all those nasty emotions back into their cage where he usually kept them locked away. He didn't know whether to blame his momentary weakness on Harry or Aiya, and though he sullenly decided that both of them were equally guilty in the matter, he preferred the idea of punishing the delightfully responsive Gryffindor and chose to lay the majority of fault at Harry's feet. _I wouldn't mind seeing him gagged and bound._ He distracted himself with imagining an appropriate punishment and didn't hear Aiya's return until she was putting a glass tumbler half-full of whiskey in his hand.  
  
         "I knew I was in trouble the instant Harry started asking questions about Lucius," Aiya said, flopping down on the blue sofa with her own glass cupped in both hands. "Once he latches onto something, he just refuses to let it go. I'm surprised he talked to you about it; I didn't realize you two had progressed beyond the undefined ' _is it lust? is it love?_ ' phase of your relationship."  
  
         Severus scowled. They hadn't progressed very far beyond that at all, to be honest, but there was no sense in affirming Aiya's uncanny intuition, especially when she'd just guessed his source of information without missing a beat. "No changing the subject."  
  
         "He's formed a tight bond with you already … even as your _maranwe_ , that's impressive," Aiya continued in her absent musings until Severus cleared his throat impatiently and she shook herself back to the present, muttering, "Okay, okay … I'll tell you what happened with Lucius as long as you promise me not to tell Harry. He has enough to worry about these days."  
  
         "Keeping secrets from Harry is the surest way to alienate him, Aiya," he warned her darkly. "Albus rarely tells him anything, and I've watched Harry distance himself more and more from the Headmaster each year. I think the only person who's consistently open with him is that damn mutt, and even he keeps the occasional secret from the boy."  
  
         "I'll take my chances," she said firmly before taking a drink of her whiskey.  
  
         Severus glowered at her but relented after a stretch of stubborn silence that Aiya refused to break. _They really are a lot alike_ , he thought in regard to the Mori siblings, both annoyed and amused by the realization. _Stubborn, impulsive … always getting into trouble_  ... He was amazed that they weren't actual blood relatives. "I won't breathe a word to Harry. Now tell me everything … why did Lucius attack you?"  
  
         Aiya sighed, bolstering her courage with another swallow of whiskey, then proceeded to explain the events that brought an end to her enrollment at Hogwarts. "My father always says I'm like a moth - attracted to the light, to things that are dangerous to me. I ignore my instincts, not because I don't trust them, but because of the thrill … the excitement of doing exactly what I know I shouldn't be doing. I've always been this way, even as a child. I got us into so much trouble, remember?"  
  
         "How could I forget?" he replied with a roll of his eyes, well aware of Aiya's penchant for trouble-making and her tendency to rope Severus into her schemes. Many of the countless detentions he'd received during those first two years were the direct result of going along with one of Aiya's 'adventures.'  
  
         "Then you'll understand why I ignored all the warnings that told me to stay away from Lucius. I was flattered that he paid attention to me at all. By all physical appearances, he was a perfect embodiment of light, the pale golds and grays of a winter morning - and it was his contradictions, the darkness contained within that disguise of light, that tempted me to ignore my own intuition and allow him to become close to me." She indulged in a bitter chuckle, swirling the amber liquid in her glass as she said softly, "He called me 'Kitten' and treated me accordingly - a pet to be played with whenever he was bored."  
  
         Severus recalled hearing Lucius call Aiya by that nickname on a few occasions, but the implications of what might have constituted as 'playing' by Lucius's standards led him to ask hesitantly, "Did he ever - "  
  
         "Only once," Aiya interrupted him before he could finish the question. "My thirteenth birthday … three weeks before the attack. He told me to meet him alone, that he wanted to give me his present in private." She closed her eyes, her grip tightening on the glass in her hand. "I was only a child, Severus, and too stupid to understand what he was planning. It wasn't about sex for him, it was about control - I think he just wanted to secure his hold over me - but when he started to … to _touch_ me, it frightened me so much that I lost my dimming. It surprised him and he let go of me, just for a second, but it was long enough for me to use the shadows to get away."  
  
         "Not unlike Harry's own experience with the Wynford boy," Severus commented and Aiya opened her eyes, a myriad of emotions churning through her and affecting the color of her gaze, from lavender to lilac to indigo, so many shades of purple that Severus couldn't identify them all.  
  
         "I didn't expect that to happen so soon to Harry," she said quietly. "He did the right thing, going to you like he did. Maybe if I'd told someone …"  
  
         "Why didn't you tell _me_?" There was no disguising the hurt in Severus's voice. Aiya had been his best friend for his first two years at Hogwarts. He couldn't understand why she would keep something that important from him.  
  
         "I was ashamed. Mori are taught from the time they're fledglings that our survival depends on listening to our instincts, but I had purposely ignored all those little alarms that went off whenever I was around Lucius. Besides, I thought the worst was over … I swore to myself I would never be alone with him again and decided to put it behind me. I didn't even consider that he would know what I was or that my being a Mori would mean anything to him." She gulped down the rest of her whiskey, nearly choking on the burning liquid, but at least it brought some color back to her ashen face.  
  
         "That was pretty naïve of you." He switched glasses with her, convinced that she needed the whiskey more than him.  
  
         "I still had my innocence back then. I wanted to believe that things had changed, that the wizarding world had changed." She sipped at Severus's whiskey, the painful loss of that innocence reflected in the indigo of her eyes. "Three weeks went by and I thought I was safe. Then I received a letter during breakfast, signed with Sirius's name. And … well, you know what it said."  
  
         Severus stiffened. Yes, he was familiar with this part of the story. The letter had raised all of young Aiya's hopes that her unrequited crush on the brash Gryffindor had a chance of being reciprocated. It had specified a place to meet and a time, but Severus hadn't discovered the note until later on that evening, long after Aiya had run off claiming a need to visit the library. By the time he'd raced to the unused dungeon room in search of her, the damage had been done, the attacker had nearly knocked him down in his hurry to get away, and he'd found Aiya lying in a puddle of her own blood.  
  
         "I thought it was Black who attacked you," he admitted, earning a shocked look from his friend. He scowled, adding in defense of his assumption, "Don't give me that look, Aiya. The note was signed with his name. What else was I supposed to think? It was too dark for me to see anything, so naturally I thought he was the one who had attacked you."  
  
         Aiya smiled softly. "Well, at least now you have one less reason to hate him."  
  
         Severus snorted, not sure he'd go that far. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he tried to piece together all the snatches of information Aiya had given him, but he kept coming up short when it came to a motive for the attack. "Why would Lucius attack you? It seems to me that he would have more reason than ever to win you to his side. His very own Mori shield … most dark wizards would stop at nothing to secure your loyalty, especially with the supposed rarity of your race. Your kind was thought to be extinct, after all."  
  
         "It was no random act of violence, Severus. He knew exactly what he was doing." Aiya's tone turned cold and biting, her expression darkening to a degree Severus had never before witnessed from her. "There is a binding spell that we Mori fear above all other spells - it is the only dark magic we cannot resist because it is woven together with elements of light, a spell that not only enslaves the body and soul of the Mori it is performed on, but also their children, a spell that can infect a bloodline for generations. It was that very spell that incited the Mori to rebel against the wizarding world. Our willing servitude was not enough for some wizards. They wanted complete and total submission, and so one of them devised a spell to turn the Mori into thralls, creatures without wills of their own, made only to serve their masters. It was a dark time for my people. Those Mori who fell victim to the spell found themselves forced to do battle with their loved ones, used as weapons in a war to enslave an entire race, and the free Mori found that beloved family members were now their enemies. My own father was forced to kill a favorite cousin of his … the atrocities of that time are too many to name, but in the end the Mori thralls were destroyed and the surviving free Mori were deemed too dangerous to live by the wizarding world they'd turned against. The massacres that followed drove the Mori into hiding. We thought that with our 'extinction,' the binding spell would be forgotten by the wizarding world, but apparently some of the older pureblood lines were not so hasty to dismiss its usefulness."  
  
         "Then those wounds on your body … they were caused by a spell?"   
  
         "They _are_ the spell," Aiya said quietly. "He weakened me with a conjured light, but I was aware of everything that went on. Every word he spoke was simultaneously carved into my skin, branding me. The spell is … I can't explain it, really, it's just … _alive_. A living, breathing chain wrapped around my body."  
  
         "You talk as if it still affects you," Severus said, his eyes widening in alarm when Aiya only nodded. "But how? That was over twenty years ago! And he obviously didn't finish the spell …"  
  
         "It might be easier to just show you." Aiya stood up, turning so her back was to Severus as she untied her robe and lowered it to her waist, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her back. With a deep breath, she dropped her strongest glamour - the one even Harry's Mori eyesight had been unable to pierce - and revealed the intricate crimson spellwork that decorated her back and arms, the presence of the dark red runic symbols turning Aiya's flesh into a work of art. From what Severus remembered of her wounds, the same symbols probably covered other parts of her body as well.   
  
         "The wounds healed but the spell never faded. Even his 'mark of ownership' remained," she said with venom in her voice, and Severus's gaze was drawn to the ouroboros sigil marking the small of Aiya's back, a long-bodied dragon devouring its own tail and forming a perfect circle, the Malfoy crest and part of the family's coat-of-arms. "It's as if the spell is just waiting for him to return and finish what he started."  
  
         "Then why did you come back? Surely you realize the danger you're putting yourself in." His eyes glittered with anger and worry as he watched her draw the robe back around her body and tie it securely before she sat back down on the sofa. He could still see the crimson lines of the spell criss-crossing the black Elvish runes tattooed on the backs of her hands. He thought back to when he had first seen the older markings in their first year at school, when Aiya had confided in him about what she was and explained to him that the runes were given to every fledgling Mori to help them focus their powers. _She'll be marking Harry's hands soon_ , he thought to himself, and he suddenly realized that any danger Aiya faced would certainly affect Harry as well.  
  
         "Lucius thinks I'm dead," Aiya reminded him. "Even Sirius and Remus thought I was dead until I showed up at Grimmauld Place. Or have you forgotten my spectacular death scene in the Great Hall?"  
  
         "Not likely since it was my duty to help concoct the potion that rendered you temporarily lifeless," he said, unable to hide his smug pride that it was a potion of his that fooled an entire school into believing Aiya had mysteriously dropped dead, a ploy that had surprisingly been sanctioned by the Headmaster himself. With a growl, he shook himself out of his momentary lapse of self-adoration and glared at her. "And if Lucius learns that you aren't dead? What then?" The consequences of the spell being completed were too ghastly for Severus to wrap his mind around just then, but one threat in particular could not be ignored. "Will the spell infect Harry?"  
  
         A bright, beaming smile broke out on Aiya's face amidst all the turmoil, confusing Severus, who didn't think there was anything in the slightest to be smiling about. "You're really falling for him, aren't you?" she said with a grin. "I knew you'd finally given in to the inevitable and admitted you were attracted to him, but without Mori instinct driving you I thought it would take longer for you to allow yourself to get so attached to him."  
  
         "Just answer the question, woman," he snarled, not wanting to hear Aiya gush about his relationship with Harry.   
  
         She sobered quickly, as if suddenly recollecting that this was a very serious discussion they were having. "No, he won't be infected. Only my children - natural-born blood descendants - would fall victim to the spell. That's why I've never had any children of my own; I didn't want to risk it."  
  
         Severus sighed, taking a moment to let everything sink in. He certainly hadn't expected the truth about Aiya and Lucius to be so complicated, but this new information did seem to answer a few of his own questions. For one, it explained why Voldemort had suddenly turned his attention to hunting the Mori. With Lucius whispering in his ear about the Mori child that attended Hogwarts, it was no wonder that the Dark Lord was searching for other signs of the 'extinct' race. And with this powerful binding spell that Aiya talked about, Voldemort could form himself an army of Mori thralls and gain a huge advantage in the war. The fact that neither of them had interrogated Severus about his own knowledge of the Mori meant that Lucius was unaware that Aiya had told Severus what she was. _And if they learn of that connection, I become their prime suspect for the spy who warned the Mori of that surprise raid on their settlement,_ he thought.  
  
         "I still say it's too dangerous for you to stay here," he finally spoke up, a flinty inflection in his velvety voice.   
  
         "I can't abandon Harry," she insisted, tiredly rubbing her eyes. "Even if the unthinkable happens and Lucius does get ahold of me, he'll never get a chance to complete the spell. We Mori have a fail-safe solution for just such an occasion. They've even started teaching it to the fledglings, after what happened to me. Not that any other half-wizards have dared to set one foot in Hogwarts after my disastrous attempt at integration …"  
  
         "A fail-safe?" Severus wanted a firmer idea of what Aiya could possibly do to prevent the spell's completion, but Aiya groaned and looked at him with a plea for mercy in her now-lavender eyes.  
  
         "Please, Severus, can't we just drop it for now? You wanted the truth about Lucius and I told you everything, so can't I go back to sleep?"  
  
         He wanted to argue for another five minutes worth of discussion, but she really did look exhausted and he knew it must have taken a lot out of her to relive the horrific experience of being branded for life by someone close to her. _I'm getting soft_ , he berated himself, but to Aiya he only nodded as he stood up. "I'll go for now, but don't think that this is the last discussion we'll be having on this topic."  
  
         "I know you too well to ever think that," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "You can be as relentless as Harry, and that's saying something."  
  
         He ignored her little jab as they walked together to the door, too focused on giving her last minute instructions about future activities to care what she implied about the existence of similarities between himself and Harry. "Be more careful about your glamours - they were unacceptably sloppy when you answered the door tonight. And stop letting your students call you by your first name - don't act innocent, I heard that first year girl addressing you as 'Aiya' at breakfast this morning - and maybe you should keep your distance from Draco for the time being. I refuse to believe that boy has any true aspirations to be a Death Eater, but he's still a Malfoy and he might let something slip to his father. Aiya, are you listening to me?" He turned to her with a scowl that terrified students of all ages but was wasted on the spritely morwen at his side. She had grown somewhat agitated after his mention of Draco, but he assumed it was only because the son reminded her of the father.  
  
         "Work on the glamours, no first names, don't get too close to Draco," she repeated his instructions speedily, practically pushing him out the door. "I'll do what I can."  
  
         His eyes narrowed in suspicion, a frown forming on his lips as he began to ask, "Why do I get the feeling there's something else you're hiding from - "  
  
         "Oh, will you just stop it already? I bare my soul to you about Lucius and still you're not satisfied?" She softened her exasperated words with a good-natured grin, but Severus took the hint and didn't push any further for information - _for now_. He had grown adept at squeezing information from people over the years, and he remained confident that it was only a matter of time before he pried all of Aiya's secrets out of her. Until then, he would concentrate on making sure that what happened to Aiya would never happen to Harry.   
  
         The need to see Harry and reassure himself of his safety flared inside of Severus and he was suddenly just as eager to leave Aiya as she was to see him go. They traded farewells and parted ways, Aiya off to try and fall back to sleep, and Severus off to his own bedroom where he knew he would find little sleep ... but enormous peace of mind.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **Mori** \- a race of dark creatures, means 'dark' or 'darkness' in Elvish  
>  **morion** \- a male Mori, means 'son of the dark' in Elvish  
>  **morwen** \- a female Mori, means 'daughter of the dark' in Elvish  
>  **maranwe** \- the Mori concept of soulmates, the word means 'destiny' in Elvish


	18. The Dark Grimoire

Harry couldn't understand it.   
  
         Five lessons. _Five more lessons_ had gone by since that night spent in Severus's bed and not only had Severus failed to instigate the post-Occlumency snogging that usually ended each of their tri-weekly sessions, but he'd actually cracked down on Harry to the point that he was forced to defend himself against a constant barrage of _Legilimens_ from nearly the first moment he stepped into Severus's private rooms.   
  
         “Are you even _trying_ to block me?” Severus once remarked acidly after breaking through Harry's defenses for the fourth time in a row.   
  
         “What, you think I actually _want_ you to see me getting kicked around by Dudley when I was five years old?” Harry had retorted angrily, not quite sure where this sudden rush to get Harry fully trained in Occlumency had come from since originally Severus had been just as inclined as Harry to speed through the lessons to leave time for ... other pursuits.  
  
         Severus had stared dispassionately at him, his inky black gaze unreadable but a note of censure in his velvety voice as he said, “One of these days it's going to be real, Harry. Someone is going to try and get inside your head for the purpose of hurting you or someone you love. Are you going to just let them waltz right in?”  
  
         He had bristled at the implications that he wouldn't put up a fight, especially when it came to his friends and family, and he'd managed to throw off Severus's spell successfully for the rest of the night, but it left him full of that dark, pulsing magic that he now associated with his growing bond to Severus. The longer he went without Severus's touch, the more the magic began to build up inside of him, clouding his aura and remaining trapped inside his body with no safe outlet through which he could release it. His schoolwork suffered for it, since every spell he tried to perform in class came out ten times stronger than he intended, and the result usually destroyed something or sent someone to the hospital wing.   
  
         “What's gotten into you?” Ron asked him in a heated whisper after nearly two weeks of dodging flying desks and exploding cauldrons, and then there were the welts he suffered after Harry used a shield charm against him during practice in DADA (it seemed that even Harry's defensive spells turned decidedly aggressive with all that strange magic flowing through his veins). “Your magic's gone all wonky.”  
  
         The three friends were in the library combing through the stacks in the restricted section, their entrance granted with a note from Aiya, as they searched for books that might include information on the Mori.   
  
         “It's true. I haven't seen such unpredictable magic since Ron busted his wand in our second year.” Hermione chimed in, her comment soliciting a glare from her boyfriend.  
  
         “ _You_ crash-land a flying car in the Whomping Willow and let's see what happens to _your_ wand,” Ron said with a huff of annoyance.  
  
         “As if I would ever do anything so reckless,” Hermione retorted with a haughty air, not even looking over at Ron as she continued to peruse the titles of the books on the shelf in front of her.  
  
         Harry was only half-listening to their bickering, grateful that they were picking away at each other instead of interrogating him further on the topic of why his magic had suddenly gone crazy. Honestly, he didn't know why. Even Aiya seemed stumped by his problem when he told her of it, but then she had reassured him that fledglings often had trouble controlling their powers in the beginning and they used runes to focus that power. He was set to be marked with his own runes the next day during their weekend lesson, and Harry couldn't wait to get his magic back under control.  
  
         _Of course, it would help if that stupid git would just kiss me, for Merlin's sake_ , he grumbled silently to himself. The way Severus ran hot and cold all the time was really starting to grate on Harry's nerves, but it was hard to discuss it with him while fending off a string of spells meant to pry into Harry's mind. His head hurt so badly by the end of each lesson that he didn't stick around to have it out with Severus.  
  
         _Why don't_ you _just kiss_ him _instead?_ an amused, female voice murmured in his mind, one of the many Mori spirits who liked to offer unsolicited advice. _Who says you have to wait around for him to make the first move?  
  
         _“He'd probably give me detention,” Harry snapped, causing his two friends to look at him in confusion.  
  
         “What are you going on about?” Ron asked.  
  
         _Some things are worth the risk_. The feminine voice chuckled then faded away, leaving Harry with the impossible task of explaining away his odd statement.  
  
         “Err ... it's nothing. Just thinking out loud.” He turned back to the row of books he was examining.  
  
         “I really think it's terrible how the Mori were treated,” Hermione said, noticing Harry's discomfort and tactfully changing the subject. “I thought it was strange when I first read that they were classified as 'beasts' by the Ministry of Magic since they are so closely related to house-elves. Come to find out, they were stripped of their 'being' status after they decided they didn't want to remain inferior to the wizards they once protected. Why would the Ministry do that?”  
  
         “I suppose it's easier to justify hunting down a 'beast' than a 'being,'” Harry remarked absently, then he frowned and looked up at her. “Where did you learn about the Mori once having 'being' status? I don't remember that from Culpepper's book.”  
  
         “Don't you know? She's gone and started _corresponding_ with that guy. Like they're pen pals, or something.” Ron didn't sound too happy about it.  
  
         “With Culpepper?” Harry shot Hermione an incredulous look. He'd underestimated Hermione's resourcefulness.   
  
         “Nathaniel Culpepper, yes, and get over it Ron, I told you he's as old as Dumbledore. It's not like we're writing love letters back and forth.” Hermione allowed a tiny smile to brighten her expression at her boyfriend's obvious show of jealousy. “That book was written quite a few years ago, so I wrote him telling him I was interested in learning more about the Mori and wondered if he had done any other research on them. I think he was just happy someone had read his book. He's been very helpful. More helpful than that other book I found that basically contained every prejudice and stereotype you could imagine about the Mori.”  
  
         “Aiya did say that Culpepper's book was the only unbiased one,” Harry admitted, and he wondered if their current search would prove to be a waste of time. They'd been searching for almost an hour and the few books they'd found only mentioned the Mori as ingredients for potions or talismans. Harry really didn't want to know that the blood of a Mori newborn was considered the rarest and most sought after potion ingredient among dark wizards, or that adding fresh Mori tongue to a love potion allowed the wizard who made it to speak directly into the mind of the person who drank it.   
  
         “Maybe we should just concentrate on Culpepper's research,” Harry said with a sigh, quite ready to give up and move on to finishing his Charms homework. He looked up at the towering shelves full of books that he hadn't even had a chance to glance at yet. _There are just so many_ , he thought, but then he froze. There, on the highest shelf, he could see the spine of an ancient-looking book that was imprinted with the same dragon symbol he'd seen in his dream about Aiya and Severus. Dragging the library ladder over to that section, he climbed up to the top and pulled the book off the shelf, surprised by the size and thickness of the old tome.  
  
         “What did you find?” Hermione asked as he brought the book over to their table, clearing the other books out of the way as he placed the large, heavy book in front of her.  
  
         “What is that symbol?” Harry pointed at the self-devouring dragon that was also emblazoned on the book's front cover. There was no mention of title or author, only the symbol, so black it seemed burned onto the red leather cover.  
  
         Hermione peered at the symbol, then stated matter-of-factly, “It's an ouroboros, a highly magical symbol in the wizarding world.”  
  
         “Wait a minute.” Ron nudged Harry aside so he could get a better look at the book. “I've seen that before ... on letters addressed to my dad from Lucius Malfoy back when Dad first proposed the Muggle Protection Act. I think he was trying to intimidate Dad into backing off, not that it worked. The seal on the envelopes looked exactly like that.”  
  
         “Malfoy?” Even as his voice registered his surprise, the pieces fell into place for Harry. Surely this was proof that Lucius Malfoy had been the mysterious attacker from Harry's dream! Grabbing the book from Hermione, Harry opened it and began to flip through its pages, glancing over countless dark spells and rituals all written in several languages but none that Harry could decipher himself.   
  
         “It's probably some book the Ministry confiscated,” Ron said. “Remember when they did all those raids? I think a lot of the books they rounded up went to Hogwarts, for research I guess.”  
  
         Hermione fared better, picking out the French and Latin with ease and guessing at the rest. “Maybe it's like a Malfoy family spellbook ... none of these pages are written with the same handwriting, see? I wonder how many generations it contains ...” She continued to read over his shoulder as he meticulously hunted for a spell about the Mori.  
  
         In the end, Harry didn't even have to rely on Hermione's skills as a translator. The particular page he'd turned to included a small drawing of a naked Mori male covered in crimson runes, and he knew he'd found the spell he was looking for.   
  
         “This is ... a binding spell,” Hermione said. “At least, that's what the text says, but I don't see the spell itself.”  
  
         Harry ran his finger along the gutter of the book, feeling the jagged remnants of the page that would have contained the spell. “Someone tore out the page.”  
  
         “Harry, this is ... well, it's a really evil spell. The way it's being described here, this spell is like a permanent, irreversible version of _Imperio_ , meant to enslave the will of the victim ... and it seems tailored to work exclusively against the Mori.”  
  
         “There's no way to counter it or break its hold?”   
  
         “Well ...” Hermione narrowed her eyes, silently translating what Harry recognized as Latin, then saying with quiet horror, “ ... it says ' _ei moridendum est_.'”  
  
         “Which means?” Ron prompted impatiently.  
  
         “It means 'he must die.' Basically, it's saying that for the victim to be freed, the wizard who cast the spell must die.”  
  
         “But since the Mori is enslaved to the wizard, they'll protect the wizard's life over their own, won't they? Any attempt to kill the wizard to free the Mori means killing the Mori first anyway, doesn't it?” Harry looked over at Hermione, who nodded in confirmation.  
  
         “Bloody hell! Those Malfoys are one sick bunch,” Ron said, glaring down at the book in disgust.  
  
         “That's not entirely fair, Ron,” Hermione protested, though not convincingly. “There must have been some good Malfoys mixed in with the bad ones. I mean, I saw a few spells in there that had nothing to do with the Dark Arts. A few healing spells ... protection spells ...”  
  
         “If the spell isn't completed, what then?” Harry interrupted Hermione's feeble attempt at defending past generations of Malfoys. Her ability to play devil's advocate for a family whose current generations had done nothing but publicly degrade her was admirable, proving that she couldn't stand prejudicial judgements being made about anyone - even a Malfoy - who wasn't around to defend himself, but Harry personally had to agree with Ron's assessment of the pureblood family.  
  
         “It doesn't say. Why?”  
  
         “I think Lucius Malfoy tried to use this spell on Aiya back when they were both students at Hogwarts.”  
  
         “He used this spell on a _child_?” Hermione cringed at the thought of a helpless child enduring such a torturous spell.   
  
         “She wouldn't even talk about it when I asked her about him,” Harry carried on, letting the dark energy inside him flare as he vented his frustration, not noticing the way Ron and Hermione backed a few steps away from him. “Why would she keep something like this from me? And if a Malfoy hurt her once, why the hell is she letting Draco into her rooms?”  
  
         “Madam Pince is going to throw us out of here if you don't calm down,” Hermione scolded, and Harry yanked out a chair and plopped down into it, taking deep breaths as he struggled to subdue both his temper and the wild magic surging through his body.  
  
         “I'm sure she just didn't want to worry you, mate,” Ron spoke up. “It's not like I'd want Ginny to know about all the bad things that have happened to me. As the older brother, it's my job to protect her, not the other way around. Maybe that's how Aiya feels, being your big sister and all.”  
  
         Hermione stared in amazement at her unexpectedly sensitive boyfriend, then turned to Harry and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Ron's right. I don't think Aiya would keep something from you unless she had a good reason for it.”  
  
         “Funny how everyone always seems to have a good reason for not telling me things,” Harry said, stubbornly clinging to his hurt and disappointment. With a sigh, he shoved the ancient grimoire away from him and gathered his things. “Let's go. I'm sick of researching for now.”  
  
         “Oh no you don't,” Hermione said as she pointed to the book. “Put that back where you got it from. You can't just leave something like that lying around for anyone to find.”  
  
         Ron snickered, no doubt happy to see someone else being bossed around by Hermione for a change as Harry grudgingly returned the book to its home, then the three of them walked out of the library together.  
  
  


*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

  
         A few hours later, the three of them had abandoned their studies for the lure of food. They sat in an isolated group in the Great Hall, keeping a fair amount of distance between themselves and the rest of the Gryffindors eating supper so they could discuss things without worrying about being overheard.  
  
         Hermione picked at her food, more interested in Harry's problems than in the chicken and dumplings on her plate. “Make sure you read those notes I gave you on Mr. Culpepper's research. The Mori are creatures with amazing adaptive capabilities, and for a male Mori that could even mean -”  
  
         “The last thing Harry needs is you giving him more homework,” Ron cut her off, determined to intervene on Harry's behalf. Harry just watched them with a glint of amusement in his grassy-green eyes.  
  
         “It's not homework. It's important information that Harry needs to know,” Hermione argued. “Especially considering Harry's ... _preferences_. Mr. Culpepper says there have been reported cases of male Mori becoming -”  
  
         “Be a sweetheart and lay off the poor guy,” Ron implored, but all he accomplished with his attempt at diplomacy was to rile Hermione up and earn himself a heated glare.  
  
         “I'm only trying to help him, _Ronald_ ,” she forced out between clenched teeth, and both boys winced when she used Ron's full first name - it was a sure sign that Hermione was truly angry. “But since you won't let me finish, I'll just have to trust that Harry will read my notes on his own. You _will_ read them, won't you Harry?” Now she was glaring at Harry, and he raised his hands in defense, not wanting to upset her any further.  
  
         “Sure, sure,” he said quickly. “Whatever you say. I'll get right on that.” Desperate for something to do, he reached for what he thought was a glass of pumpkin juice, bringing the rim of the glass to his lips to take a drink. Hermione gasped and smacked the glass out of his hands, spilling the contents all over Harry's clothes. The cup broke when it hit the floor, leaving behind only shards of glass and a puddle of pearly liquid that to Harry's senses gave off an earthy scent ... sandalwood and patchouli and musk ... and he realized whatever he'd been about to drink smelled just like Severus.  
  
         “What are you doing? He said he'd read the bloody notes, Hermione!” Ron stared at her in disbelief, shocked by Hermione's behavior. He obviously thought she had acted out of anger and frustration instead of wanting to prevent Harry from drinking from his glass, and his reaction might have made Harry laugh if he wasn't already too busy being annoyed that his pants and shirt were soaking wet.   
  
         [This is the second time you've dumped a drink on yourself in public,] Aiya's voice teased him from where she and the other teachers were getting a front-row view of Harry's humiliation. He could feel Severus's gaze but chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the bickering couple sitting across from him.  
  
         “Don't be stupid, Ron. I wasn't attacking him,” Hermione was saying, offended by her boyfriend's assumption. “He was about to drink a love potion and I guess I acted without thinking.”  
  
         “A simple 'Don't drink that' would have done the trick,” Harry said with a forced grin, not wanting to make Hermione feel bad by letting his sour mood show in his expression. It wasn't her fault that people were constantly spiking his food and drink with potions.  
  
         “What seems to be the trouble here?” Dumbledore smiled down at the trio, drawn away from his own meal by the commotion.   
  
         “It was _Amortentia_ , Headmaster,” Hermione said as she pointed to the remnants of potion still pooled on the floor along with the broken glass. The spilled liquid had a distinct mother-of-pearl sheen to it, and Harry realized now why the potion smelled like Severus - it was meant to smell like whatever attracted him.  
  
         “How did it get in my glass? We've been sitting here the entire time. Wouldn't we have seen something?” Harry plucked the front of his shirt away from his chest, the wet material sticking to his skin and worsening the chill that always invaded his body after sunset. He would have to change before his Occlumency lesson or he'd be shivering so hard he wouldn't stand a chance of blocking Severus from his mind.  
  
         “Anyone with access to _Amortentia_ , or with the skill to brew it, would have no trouble ensuring the potion made its way to you undetected,” Dumbledore said, but he gave each of them a reassuring smile as he waved his wand and cleaned up the mess on the floor. “I will discuss this with Professor Snape. Perhaps his store room has been raided again, or he might know of a student with the proficiency to concoct this potion. Excellent work, Miss Granger. I feel better knowing Harry has you on his side.”  
  
         Hermione beamed at the praise, but Harry couldn't just let the incident pass by without speaking up. First he'd been forced to go along with the story that Rhys's injuries were sustained in a fall after a staircase moved unexpectedly, and now he was just supposed to get used to the fact that every meal he had in the Great Hall was possibly drugged with one potion or another? He knew Dumbledore was trying to protect Harry and his secret, but he was tired of pretending like nothing unusual was going on.   
  
         “And while you're at it,” Harry said to Dumbledore as he stood up, raising his voice loud enough that he could be heard by all the students who had been watching the entire scene with undisguised curiosity, “why don't you tell everyone that I'm sick of these damn love potions. If I want to fuck someone, I'll let them know.”  
  
         He heard a few gasps from the younger students at his language, but otherwise the room was deathly silent. He met Dumbledore's disapproving gaze evenly, not yielding to the pressure to apologize for his rather crude outburst, and with a cocky grin he added, “If that wouldn't be too much trouble, Headmaster.”  
  
         “Ten points from Gryffindor for language, Harry, and another ten for impertinence,” Dumbledore replied in his tirelessly pleasant voice, though Harry knew him well enough by now to detect the steely undertone to his words. It looked like he was going to just turn and walk away but at the last minute he nodded his head, as if finally deciding something for himself, and he added quietly, “but I'll see what I can do.”  
  
         “Pretty ballsy of you, Harry,” Ron said after Dumbledore had walked back to the teachers' table, something like awe in his voice.   
  
         “You shouldn't have been so rude to Dumbledore. You lost us twenty points.” Hermione wasn't impressed at all with what Harry had done, but Harry was feeling the rush of rebellion and couldn't bring himself to take Hermione's reprimand seriously. It had been a purely impulsive action, standing up to Dumbledore like that, and giving in to his instincts seemed to set off a chain reaction in Harry. His skin tingled as the restless, restrained energy inside him swelled to new, almost painful proportions, and he swore he could feel every shadow in the room tremble in response.  
  
         [ _Harry_.] Aiya's voice was like a crack of thunder in his mind and he glared at her over his shoulder. [Harry, I want you to go straight to my rooms.]  
  
         He scowled, his gaze traveling to Severus, and the dark energy grew so oppressive that all Harry could think about was how to release it. There was no room for rational thought or civilized behavior - he was being driven by instinct alone, and his brilliant green eyes hungrily drank in the sight of Severus, catching the scent that Amortentia could only weakly replicate and breathing deeply.   
  
         [Harry!] A flicker of pain accompanied Aiya's use of his name this time, and Harry reluctantly looked at her again, his deeply felt frustration evident in the pained jade of his eyes and the way his fingers clenched and unclenched as he struggled to control himself.   
  
         “You alright mate?” Ron asked hesitantly. Both he and Hermione were staring wide-eyed at Harry - in fact, he was still the center of attention for most of the Great Hall - and Harry realized how ridiculous he must look, standing there in his potion-soaked clothes and staring like a madman at the teachers' table. He could only hope that his friends hadn't seen the lust in his eyes when he was staring at Severus.  
  
         [My rooms. _Now_.] Aiya bent down to whisper something to Severus, who couldn't completely mask his own shock at Harry's behavior, then she stood up and left the Great Hall.  
  
         “I'm terrific,” Harry lied to his friends with a strained smile, but he could see that they weren't buying it this time. He shrugged it off with a sigh. “Listen, don't worry. I have to go see Aiya. Thanks for saving me from becoming someone's love slave,” he joked to Hermione, waving to them both before taking off after his sister. He didn't risk looking at Severus again. Without Aiya around, there was nothing to keep him from making a fool of himself.  
  
         He managed to get a tentative hold on the pulsing energy that fought to burst free, deciding to walk all the way to Aiya's rooms instead of using the void to make his trip shorter, but any control he'd won back during his trek to the second floor was dashed away when he saw Draco speaking earnestly to Aiya just outside the hidden door to her rooms.   
  
         “You have _got_ to be joking,” he snarled, alerting the two Slytherins to his presence (though the desperate way Aiya was trying to get rid of Draco suggested she'd already sensed Harry's close proximity).   
  
         “Hello, Potter,” Draco greeted him icily, his gray eyes narrowed in malicious amusement as he took in the sight of Harry's ruined clothes. He sniffed the air, chuckling, “Trying out a new perfume, are you? Cherry blossoms? Isn't that a little too feminine, even for you?”  
  
         Harry balled his hands into fists. Draco hadn't been in the Great Hall so he wasn't aware that Harry had been doused in _Amortentia_ , and by admitting that he thought Harry smelled like cherry blossoms, he was unwittingly confessing his attraction to the morwen standing beside him whose scent of cherry blossoms and spring rain was as familiar to Harry as Severus's scent. His protective instincts flared to life, but another flicker of pain in his mind drew his gaze to Aiya.  
  
         [You need to calm down, Harry. Just let me get rid of him ...]   
  
         Harry ignored Aiya's warnings and smiled disarmingly at Draco. If he wasn't going to be allowed to thrash the arrogant Slytherin, then he decided he would bruise his ego instead. “Why don't you run along, Malfoy? Quit making a pest of yourself.” He brushed between the two of them to tap his wand against the correct stone, revealing the door as well as the latch that only appeared for him or for Aiya. With a triumphant smirk at his baffled enemy, Harry opened the door, calling back to Aiya, “Don't take too long getting rid of him. I have detention with Snape in an hour, so we'll have to make this short.”  
  
         He couldn't suppress his laughter as he heard Draco angrily asking, “Why does Potter have access to your rooms?” but he didn't stick around to hear the rest of Draco's tirade. Instead, he walked into Aiya's bedroom, then slipped inside the shadows and used the void to get to the Gryffindor dormitories, checking to make sure the room was empty before he stepped out of the shadows. The rational side of him felt bad for ditching Aiya like that and leaving her to explain away what Draco might believe was a less than platonic relationship between Aiya and Harry, but the other side of him was still hurt and disappointed by the way she continued to keep secrets from him and was rationalizing his actions as being a well-deserved punishment for his secretive sister.  
  
         _She's going to flip when I'm not in her rooms_ , he thought with a measure of satisfaction as he changed out of his soggy clothing. Of course, he still had the problem of dealing with the wild magic still raging and churning inside of him, but Harry was determined to find a solution ...  
  
         ... and what better place to start his search for a cure than in the dungeons?  


 

 


	19. Turning the Tables

 

         By the time Harry had changed into a dry pair of jeans and a clean navy-blue t-shirt, news of his outburst in the Great Hall had spread to those students unfortunate enough to have missed the now-famous declaration he'd made in front of Dumbledore and most of the school. He ignored the muffled whispers and curious stares that followed him as he walked from the Gryffindor dormitory down to the dungeons. 

_I should have used the void_. It wasn't as if the walk was doing him much good, anyway; he was still filled to the bursting with pulsing energy, magic pooling in his fingertips and shadows clinging to him like a second skin, almost as if they were the ones feeding off of him for a change.  
  
         He had taken an alternate route to the dungeons, one he had carefully plotted out after the misadventure with Rhys, that took him through windowless hallways and seldom-used staircases, helping him to avoid the moonlight that lit up his body with a silvery glow and giving him a measure of privacy from the watchful eyes of his peers, though he still ran into the occasional group of students heading back to their dorms or off to study in the library, hence the whispers and stares. He knew he would have to use the void after his 'detention' with Severus, if only because the overprotective wizard had threatened to walk Harry back to the dormitory himself on several occasions - something they both knew would be construed as highly suspicious should anyone see them together like that - just to keep Harry from 'wandering the halls at night' as he liked to put it.  
  
         "And he says _I'm_ the spoiled one," he muttered to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the way they were starting to shake from the energy building inside him. "He always gets his way." _But not tonight_ , he added silently, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He wasn't sure where this mysterious surge of confidence came from - maybe it was the overabundance of magic flowing through his veins, or maybe he'd finally snapped and this was just a delusional euphoria he was experiencing - but it left him feeling wonderfully powerful and ready to take on anything, even a surly Potions professor who most of the school lived in fear of on a daily basis.  
  
         _Hmph … he's not so scary once you get him out of those robes_ , Harry thought with a smirk, though not without suffering the consequences, heat flooding his skin as images of a naked Severus flashed through his mind. _Bad Harry, Bad!_ he scolded himself. This wasn't the time for fantasizing. He needed to be in complete control for once. Admittedly, it wasn't his specialty, and it was damn hard to keep his lust on a leash after nearly two weeks of sexual withdrawal had left him drowning in that strange, dark energy that wanted Severus and nothing else. Not even masturbation helped, and it wasn't as if Harry hadn't thoroughly explored that option to its limits.  
  
         When he came at last to the painting of the panther that guarded the entrance to Severus's rooms, Harry was surprised to see the sleek, black cat tensely pacing back and forth along the ground, not lounging lazily in its tree as it usually did. It paused and looked up at him as he approached, the beginnings of a growl rumbling in its chest, but then it leapt up onto the lowest branch of the tree and the painting swung open, allowing Harry to enter.   
  
         _That was weird_ , he thought, but then had to stifle a laugh as he looked into the room and saw Severus pacing back and forth in exactly the same manner.   
  
         "Something on your mind?" he asked cheekily, keeping his hands jammed inside his pockets to prevent him from reaching out and grabbing whatever part of Severus's body was closest.   
  
         Severus came to a stumbling halt, regarding Harry with a mixture of surprise and apprehension, but true to form he recovered quickly and glared at Harry.   
  
         "Aiya told me not to expect you for your lesson tonight," he said, completely ignoring Harry's question. He moved so he partially blocked Harry's way into the room, looking rumpled in creased black trousers and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  
  
 _So that's what Aiya was whispering to him before she left. Well, that explains the surprise,_ Harry decided, _but why does he look so worried?_ He brushed past Severus, making sure that their arms touched as he walked into the room, and that one experimental physical connection was enough to send a shockwave of energy through his body, confirming his hypothesis that the wild magic and the dark energy were directly tied to Severus. When he knew he could trust his voice, he casually remarked, "Oh really? Well, obviously she was wrong. I'm here, after all, and I fully intend for there to be a lesson …"  
  
         "Harry, I don't think this is a good idea. You were acting … _differently_ during supper, and Aiya thought - "  
  
         Harry turned, a grin still plastered on his face, though his eyes were a dangerous shade of acid green. "I know what she thought. She thought I was about to jump you right there in the Great Hall with everyone watching. She thought I was turning feral." He retraced his steps back to where Severus stood, the older man's piercing black eyes watching Harry cautiously. Harry reached out to brush his knuckles along Severus's pale cheek, his grin widening when Severus first leaned into the touch, then flinched and backed away. So, he was going to play hard to get, eh?  
  
         "And?" Severus crossed his arms over his chest, assuming a defensive posture.   
  
         "And … she was right." Harry's trembling hands, now freed from his pockets, were the only evidence that he was undergoing any internal struggle at all - in all other respects, he appeared perfectly in control, though his magic would fluctuate at times, tumbling forward like a wave crashing upon the sand, mingling with Severus's magic before being drawn back to Harry where it would gather itself together, starting the cycle all over again. [You can feel it, can't you.] Harry tried to press the smug statement into Severus's mind, but the only reaction he received in return was a feverish stare and the slightest twitch of a frown on the Severus's lips.  
  
         Undaunted, Harry continued to speak in a light, casual tone, advancing forward for every step that Severus backed away. "I saw Aiya when she was feral once … that day when Kingsley tried to stun her. She looked so fierce and dangerous … but vulnerable, too, like an animal that's been cornered. Was that how I looked tonight, Severus?" He trailed his fingertips down Severus's chest until Severus took another step back and Harry's hand fell away. "Did I look as desperate as that?"  
  
         "I wasn't really paying attention," Severus said smoothly, and Harry had to admire the way Severus could lie so effortlessly, but he supposed that was what made him such a good spy.   
  
         "It felt good, though," Harry continued, letting the lie go for now, "giving in to my instincts like that. Believe me, the past two weeks have been torture, but in that one instant I felt invincible … and I don't think I've quite come back down to earth just yet."   
  
         "What do you mean about the past two weeks being torture?" Was that a glimmer of concern in Severus's black eyes? "Did something happen? Something you didn't tell me about?"  
  
         Harry's smile turned incredulous. "Do you really think you have the right to ask me if I'm being completely open with you?"  
  
         Any trace of emotion was wiped from Severus's expression as he halted in his involuntary retreat and closed the distance between them, but the fiery gleam in his onyx eyes sent a shiver of delight dancing up Harry's spine. "I have _every_ right. You belong to me, Harry, and I won't tolerate - "  
  
         Harry silenced him with a fierce kiss, too aroused by Severus's possessive anger to fight his instincts any longer. His hands grasped Severus's shirt collar as he tugged him forward, finding the cure for his pent-up energy in Severus's soft lips and wet tongue, his youthful exuberance and passion making up for the fact that he didn't have much experience being the aggressor in this relationship. His kiss was hard and demanding, and at first Severus responded enthusiastically,just as relieved as Harry to put an end to the ban on physical contact between them, but when Harry's hands moved to unbutton his shirt, Severus tried to pull away from the kiss. With a growl, Harry shoved him away, glaring at him.  
  
         " _That_ is the torture. You haven't touched me since that night I slept in your bed. What changed, Severus?"  
  
         Severus turned away to compose himself, locking his emotions away once more as he replied coldly, "I want to get you trained as soon as possible. You need to be able to protect your mind. I realized I was … distracting you too much."  
  
         "No, what's distracting is losing control of my magic and sending my friends to the infirmary," Harry said, grabbing Severus's arm and forcing him to look into eyes that were now swirling with so many shades of green that the effect was almost hypnotizing. "Don't you see? I have to touch you, have to be close to you, because otherwise I can't control myself. How do you expect me to concentrate on protecting my mind when all I can think about is you?"  
  
         "You've always had trouble focusing. Don't blame me for your lack of concentration, Harry," Severus snapped, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going.   
  
         "Oh, but I do blame you," he said, his voice lowering seductively, acting on pure instinct as he loosened his grip on Severus's arm so he could slide his fingers down to grasp his hand, simultaneously capturing his other hand as well. "I blame you for this," he sent a pulse of dark energy through their connected hands, a pleased smile on his lips as he heard Severus's sharp intake of breath, "and for this," and he released his tenuous hold over the wild magic flowing through him, allowing it to envelop Severus, giving Harry an even greater awareness of Severus's scent and own innate magic - compelling and powerful but masterfully controlled - and how their magic combined so effortlessly, one entwining with the other, until Harry could no longer tell where his magic ended and Severus's began.  
  
         " _Harry_ ," Severus choked out, and Harry's cock twitched as he heard the raw arousal in his voice.  
  
         "So you _can_ feel it," Harry repeated his earlier unspoken thought, and he once more tried to press his voice into Severus's mind, [and you want _more_ of it, don't you.] It was not a question, but still he heard the softest of silent replies in his own mind …  
  
         [ _Yes_.]  
  
         He doubted that Severus had intended to reply at all, or even considered it possible that Harry had heard him, but Harry still viewed it as another victory in his fight to establish a deeper emotional connection with him. Their bond was strengthening, whether Severus liked it or not. _But he's not getting off that easily_ , Harry smiled to himself, and he pulled his hands away from Severus, breaking the magical connection between them. The effort to do so was painful for Harry, but the frustrated, needy expression that flickered over Severus's face made it all worthwhile. _About time he felt a little of what I've been feeling,_ he thought, and he schooled his own expression into an imitation of that cold, emotionless mask that Severus usually wore.  
  
         "You want full disclosure from me? I suppose I can tell you what I know," Harry said as he walked over to the couch and sat down, glancing back at Severus as he patted the seat beside him in invitation. Severus scowled but said nothing as he followed Harry's lead, though he chose to sit in the armchair across the coffee table from the couch. Shrugging, Harry continued, "I know about Aiya being attacked. I know that Lucius Malfoy tried to use a nasty spell against her. I also know that you stopped that spell from being completed, which saved her. Are my facts matching up with yours so far?"  
  
         Severus leaned back wearily in his chair, running a hand through his lank black hair before nodding. "To my knowledge, yes."  
  
         "You didn't know at first about Lucius being the attacker or you wouldn't have been so surprised when I mentioned his name that night, but I think maybe you talked to Aiya about it afterwards … maybe even that same evening? Knowing Aiya, she made you promise not to tell me what you talked about. Correct?"  
  
         A faint smile tried to work its way past Severus's gloomy expression, as if he was struggling not to be proud of Harry's determination as an amateur detective. No doubt he found it both admirable and irritating that Harry was so persistent in his search for the truth. He began to unroll his sleeves, re-fastening them at the wrists. "She did."  
  
         "I'm not going to ask you to break a promise, but I … I think you should think twice about promising anyone else that you'll keep something important like that a secret from me." Harry was finding it harder and harder to keep up that veneer of self-assured control now that he'd had a taste of physical contact with Severus, easing the build-up of energy and magic inside him. Reminding himself that he was still angry with Severus, he forced his voice to remain calm and unyielding. "You want me to tell you everything? Well, I want the same in return. I won't deny that I'm yours, Severus," and he reveled in the hungry, possessive gleam that flared in Severus's jet-black eyes, "but it works both ways."  
  
         "Are you claiming me, Harry?" That faint smile blossomed into a full-fledged grin despite Severus's attempts at maintaining a neutral expression.  
  
         "You've always been mine," Harry said with an answering grin, chuckling when Severus raised a brow at the bold statement. "I just didn't know it. Then Aiya told me - " he broke off, remembering that he wasn't supposed tell Severus that he knew about Aiya's prediction. "Well, she told me to follow my instincts."  
  
         "Full disclosure, Harry," Severus said darkly. Apparently, Harry wasn't able to fool Severus with those last minute revisions any more than Aiya could fool Harry.   
  
         Knowing how irritating it was to have someone start to say one thing then say something else entirely, Harry sighed and confessed, "She told me about the reading she did for you, and that you're my _maranwe_."  
  
         " _Maranwe_." Severus repeated the word slowly, as if savoring it.  
  
         "I know I would have denied it if I'd still been human, but with all these damn Mori instincts - "  
  
         " - you can't help yourself," Severus finished for him, and Harry looked up sharply, his eyes glowing a bright aquamarine as he met Severus's intense, pitch-black gaze.  
  
         "Exactly," he said, a bit breathlessly, but the moment was broken when he caught a flash of fear in the inky depths of Severus's eyes. "You're afraid … of what? Of me?"  
  
         "Half the wizarding population is afraid of you, Harry," Severus commented dryly.  
  
         "That's because I've had a lot of bad press," he joked right back, referring to the many transformations he'd undergone according to the Daily Prophet and reporters like Rita Skeeter. After all the ridiculous stories spun about him over the years, he didn't doubt that there were plenty of wizards and witches out there who believed Harry was a mad, power-crazed teenager who was more likely to turn into the next Voldemort than save them from the present one.   
  
         "But you're the last person I'd expect to believe everything you read in the Daily Prophet," Harry pressed on, his eyes narrowing in speculation as he studied Severus, "so that can't be why you're afraid. Maybe it's because … because I'm the one person who can break through all those barriers you've worked so hard to create. Is that it? Are you so used to being alone that you can't handle the fact that you're finally letting someone get close to you?"  
  
         Severus stood up abruptly, turning away and resuming his agitated pacing. "It's not that simple, Harry."  
  
         "Of course it is," Harry argued, not willing to have his questions shoved aside anymore. He stood up as well, watching helplessly as Severus began to close off his emotions once more. Just to ensure that the lines of communication stayed open, Harry continued to taunt him in the hopes that anger would loosen Severus's tongue when gentler words could not. "And it's cowardly. You let Aiya get close to you, and she ended up leaving. Is that why you're keeping your distance? Do you think I'm going to leave you? Sure, there's the chance that I'll slip up and Voldemort might kill me, but other than that I can promise you - "  
  
         "Promise me?" Severus froze in his steps and faced Harry with a heated glare. "Can you promise me that you won't get attacked in the hallway again? Or that someone won't try and rape you after feeding you one of those damn love potions? Or maybe you'd like to reassure me that no one will ever lure you into an empty dungeon and carve a spell into your skin just for the sake of making you their personal slave?"  
  
 _Finally_ , was Harry's first thought. Finally, Severus was venting his true emotions. Finally, Harry was getting a sense of why Severus had been pushing him so hard, and why he'd been distancing himself from Harry over the past two weeks. He was afraid, alright. He was afraid of having to watch Harry go through the same horrors that Aiya had faced, and he was afraid of growing attached to Harry only to lose him. Well, Severus needed to learn that he wasn't the only one with fears …  
  
         "And can you promise me that the next time you get called away by Voldemort, you'll come back to me alive?" Harry asked quietly. The fire in Severus's eyes died down at the softly spoken question, though he did indulge in his customary wince at the mention of Voldemort's name.  
  
         "No," he answered honestly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand to ease the tension building there.   
  
         "So bad things could happen to both of us," Harry summarized the situation, not caring that he was oversimplifying the matter. With the kinds of lives he and Severus lived, a little simplicity every now and then was a godsend. "Didn't you say to Dumbledore that you wanted to spend as much time as you could with me while you had the chance?" He waited for Severus to acknowledge this with a nod before he continued, "Well, I want that, too. I've seen the death that goes along with this war, Severus. I'm not especially afraid of dying - even less now that I've got countless dead Mori badgering me day and night - " he ignored Severus's puzzled expression. " - but just the thought of that bastard killing you makes my blood run cold, not to mention how it makes me want to castrate him and feed him his own - "  
  
         "I get the point, Harry," Severus interrupted, offering him his first voluntary smile of the evening.  
  
         "Then you see why it's so important for us to quit wasting time." Harry walked over to him and slipped his arms around his waist, hiding his smile against Severus's neck when Severus embraced him as well. It was just the sort of response Harry was hoping he would get. He pulled away just far enough that he could look into Severus's fathomless black eyes, allowing an insolent grin to curve his lips. "Though it's just as well we have to keep it secret for now - I don't think Sirius would approve of my first boyfriend."  
  
         "First and _last_ ," Severus clarified frostily, though his icy tone was more for show as he drew Harry closer, "and when the time comes to tell the mutt, I want to be the one giving him the happy news."  
  
         Harry rolled his eyes. "And here I was worried that your spying would get you killed, when really it's going to be Sirius who finishes you off." He chuckled as Severus scowled, clearly offended that Harry would even joke about him losing to Sirius in a duel, but Harry wouldn't apologize, merely adding, "I won't even see him again until Christmas, anyway, so there's plenty of time to argue over who gets to surprise him. Aiya will probably beat us both to it, knowing her."  
  
         Severus snorted, apparently in agreement with Harry's remark about the excitable morwen, but then his interest strayed back to the warm, magic-infused morion currently caught in his embrace. His hands strayed southward to Harry's bottom, squeezing gently and forcing their lower bodies into impossibly closer contact. His erection was plainly felt by the equally aroused morion in his arms, and Harry couldn't help but moan when Severus purred into his ear, " _Gods,_ I've missed touching you."  
  
         Harry nuzzled his neck, using lips and tongue and teeth to lay claim to the pale, smooth skin of Severus's throat, waiting until he had him panting harshly in Harry's ear before he asked in a too-innocent voice, "Do you remember what I said in the Great Hall?" He didn't really need the whispered confirmation to know that Severus was indeed replaying in his mind the obscene declaration Harry had made during supper. "Well," he said huskily, biting teasingly at Severus's earlobe before continuing in a seductive murmur, "I'm letting you know."  
  
         Severus groaned in response and tried to pull him into a kiss, but Harry easily slipped from the passionate embrace and backed away towards one of the shadowy corners of the room. It took every ounce of control Harry had left to put that distance between himself and the stunned wizard staring at him in confusion. He had an overwhelming urge to just pounce on Severus and give in to what his instincts were screaming at him, but all talk of not wasting any more time aside, Harry still felt that Severus needed a little more punishment.  
  
         "For now," he said with a taunting smile, "I'm pretty exhausted so I'll be going to bed. Yes, _my_ bed," he added, mocking a remark Severus had made on that night Harry had 'slept over.' "Honestly, Severus, you didn't think it would be _that_ easy getting me back into your bed, did you?"  
  
         " _Harry_ ," Severus said in that 'Don't even think about it' tone he used whenever he didn't like what Harry was up to - but tonight it was a tone that Harry gleefully ignored as he felt the first cool kiss of shadows upon his skin, welcoming him into the threshold of the void.  
  
         "Pleasant dreams, Severus," he cooed, feeling decidedly triumphant as Severus displayed the same frustrated expression Harry had been wearing for almost two weeks. [And now we're even,] he pressed the parting thought into Severus's mind, not caring if he really heard him or not since Severus's understanding of the situation was clearly written across his face. With another soft chuckle, Harry disappeared into the void.  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         True to his word, Harry went straight to bed after returning to the Gryffindor dormitory. The churning magic and energy that had been hindering his ability to sleep properly had settled down enough that he didn't wake up for several hours, and when he did open his eyes he could sense that it was still dark outside. A noise had startled him from his dreamless sleep, and he sat up to discover someone sitting at the end of his bed. Once he'd rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he realized it was Aiya, still fully dressed with her hair pulled away from her face, her eyes red and puffy from crying.  
  
         [Aiya? You shouldn't be here. What if someone sees you? Why are you here? What's wrong?] His mind posed the questions before he'd really given them much thought, too alarmed by this sudden visit in the middle of the night to be a little more subtle in his interrogation.  
  
         [You want answers, don't you?] Aiya's soulful eyes tugged at Harry's heart and he could only nod in reply. He watched her stand up and summon a shadowy portal, holding her hand out to him. [You'll have to come with me to get them.]   
  
         Questions of _why?_ and _where?_ and _can I at least put some clothes on first?_ popped into Harry's mind, but the first two didn't seem important as long as Aiya was finally going to be open with him, and the last one was irrelevant since he went to bed wearing two layers of clothing anyway (he really needed to work with Hermione to find a way to lessen the side effects of Dragon's Tears).   
  
         He eyed his sister's outstretched hand, saw it for the olive branch it was meant to be and took it with a smile, letting her pull him to his feet and lead him into the void.

 


	20. Rauko the Demon

 

         The gray hooded sweatshirt he'd worn to bed over top of his t-shirt was enough to keep Harry warm as he walked with Aiya in the void, but he'd realized too late that he'd forgotten his shoes. He hoped wherever they were going had carpeting. He was unable to get Aiya to say much of anything to him, or rather, _think_ much of anything, since sound was absent in the void. They'd been walking for ten minutes, shadows guiding Aiya who in turn guided Harry, her hand grasping his tightly. Sometimes they would stop and Harry could feel a presence, like a wall, blocking the path ahead of them, but Aiya would trace a finger over the darkness in a complicated pattern and the presence would fade away.  
  
         [Wards,] Aiya told him after the third such occurrence. At times when their minds were open to each other like this, Aiya had the uncanny ability of plucking out Harry's silent questions, giving answers without being asked. [You'll find out as you travel more through the void that there are times when strong magic interferes with your ability to enter certain places. There are rooms in Hogwarts that you wouldn't be able to enter because of wards. Dumbledore showed me the way to bypass the protective wards around the school on the condition that I don't show anyone else.] She chuckled into his mind, as if she could sense his eagerness to learn that trick. [Sorry, Harry. Not even you.]  
  
         _Big surprise there_ , Harry grumbled, but then again he didn't really want to go wandering around outside Hogwarts on his own anyway … he could be reckless, sure, but he wasn't suicidal. Whether Harry was immune to dark magic or not, there were plenty of other ways for some ambitious Death Eater to incapacitate Harry and deliver him to Voldemort.   
  
         Another five minutes of trudging through the seemingly endless black void went by and Harry began to grow drowsy. There was something comforting about the darkness surrounding him, something that both relaxed and rejuvenated him, leaving him with a feeling of security that he had seldom felt, even within the walls of Hogwarts. _I could fall asleep right here_ , he thought to himself. _It's so peaceful and calm. I should come more often …_  
  
         [Hiding in the void is dangerous, Harry,] Aiya replied to his unspoken thoughts. [The longer you stay, the more you grow attached to it. For the Mori, the void is like the womb - a place of birth, of belonging - and it is better to travel through it quickly than linger and risk losing yourself in the darkness.]  
  
         [Is it just as dangerous to hide on the threshold?] Harry asked, a little alarmed at the idea of being trapped in the soundless, formless void with no hope of escape and little chance of being found by another Mori.  
  
         [No, the threshold is harmless. It is shadows and illusion - not the pure darkness of the void,] she reassured him, and Harry could actually _feel_ her comforting smile even though her face was turned away from him as they traveled towards their mysterious destination. [Don't worry, Harry. As long as you don't stay in the void for days at a time, you'll be okay.]  
  
         He padded along behind her in that dark, silent place, smiling his amusement whenever a playful shadow ruffled his hair or danced around his bare feet. He could not see them here - the void was darkness itself, and the shadows were indistinguishable from that ever-present blackness - but he could feel them as strongly as ever.   
  
         Finally, they came to a threshold and left the comfort of the void behind. Harry crossed over into the familiar world of sound and color and scent, though he was having trouble guessing at where they were. His eyesight that pierced through the darkness of the room fell upon overturned chairs and peeling wallpaper, dust and grime coating the soles of his feet as he walked a few steps forward. A few feet away was a staircase, the steps warped and dilapidated, and all the windows in the room were firmly boarded up with only the tiniest slivers of moonlight squeezing between the cracks. _I've been here before_ , he suddenly realized. _This is the Shrieking Shack._  
  
         "Let go of your dimming, Harry," Aiya said, "and drop all your glamours."  
  
         "Why?" he asked, but he complied without waiting for the answer, releasing his hold over the shadows that dimmed his appearance, his skin glowing a pearlescent shade even in the darkness of the room while his eyes were a swirling mixture of greens. The only glamours he wore were the ones that covered his slightly pointed ears, and once he'd rid himself of them he turned back to Aiya, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw his sister in her truest form, the crimson tattoo of runes and symbols decorating her arms hinting at the nearly complete spell covering the rest of her skin. Harry wondered how something so beautiful as those crimson runes could have such an ugly curse attached to it.  
  
         "It's considered rude to wear glamours when meeting other Mori behind closed doors," Aiya answered his question, the purple of her eyes shifting as quickly as Harry's green, though they were dark, bluish indigo more often than not. She cleared a space among the room's debris for them to sit, not bothering to fetch one of the chairs since they were all broken or clawed to pieces. She patted the floor beside her, waiting for him to sit before she continued, "It's a show of trust to drop your glamours. After all, if you can't trust another Mori to see you as you really are, then who can you trust?"   
  
         "I'm glad to see you're finally trusting _me_ ," Harry said, staring pointedly at the newly revealed markings on his sister's arms.  
  
         Aiya sighed, but then she smiled, hugging Harry to her side as he sat down next to her, resting her head on his shoulder as she spoke quietly, "It was never a matter of trust, Harry. I was just so … ashamed."  
  
         "I know what happened, Aiya, or at least I know some of it, and the only one who should be ashamed is that bastard Lucius for hurting you," Harry said, stroking his sister's hair and feeling very much like the older sibling at this moment, regardless of the age difference between them. There were still questions he wanted to ask about the spell, and why it had remained etched into her skin after so many years, but with their minds so open to each other, Harry could feel his sister's pain and embarrassment and thought it would be better to change the subject for now. She had promised to give him all the answers he wanted … he had plenty of time to interrogate her about Lucius and the spell later. Right now, his questions were geared more towards their current situation. "So why are we at the Shrieking Shack? And who is this Mori we had to drop our glamours for?"  
  
         Aiya seemed determined to turn Harry's shoulder into her personal pillow, though he half-suspected she was leaning on him in such a way to avoid having to look at him. When she spoke, her voice was full of reluctance. "Err … well … it's like this, Harry. You see … what happened at supper, well, that … it just shouldn't have happened. I've never seen a fledgling turn feral over something that wasn't life-threatening. And when I couldn't calm you at first, it scared me. So … I think maybe … something is very different about you … something I hadn't expected. And I asked someone to come meet us here who would know what to look for … and how to deal with it."  
  
         "Just perfect," Harry groaned, shrugging Aiya off his shoulder in his irritation. "Even as a Mori, I'm abnormal."  
  
         "That's not what I'm saying." Aiya weathered his temper with remarkable ease, not flinching away from the anger that flared from him. "It's more like … the difference between a muggle and a wizard. It's not that you're flawed, it's just that there's something in you that most Mori don't have. Being able to practice magic is rare among humans, yes? Well, there are rarities among the Mori as well. It's the same with all living creatures."  
  
         It was a convincing argument, but even at seventeen Harry hadn't outgrown all of his teenage insecurities and he couldn't help but see Aiya's concern over him as proof that, once again, there was something innately _wrong_ about him. As a human, it had been his twisted connection with Voldemort. As a Mori … well, that remained to be seen.   
  
         "I chose the Shrieking Shack because it's the closest place to Hogwarts that we can meet and not stir suspicion in case anything … _extraordinary_ … happens to occur." Aiya held out her hand in gentle greeting to a small brown mouse that was scurrying across the floor by their feet. The mouse paused, sniffing her fingers and giving them a curious nip, before hurrying on its way.  
  
         Harry wasn't as happy to see the mouse - it reminded him too much of the last time he'd been in the Shrieking Shack with another type of rodent: Peter Pettigrew. He couldn't wait for the day that the cowardly animagus was captured and brought to trial so Sirius could live the life of a free wizard instead of hiding at Grimmauld Place all the time. He shook off his vengeful thoughts and turned back to Aiya, who was actually still talking though Harry hadn't paid much attention after seeing the mouse.  
  
         "… is the oldest morion alive, ancient really, and he can be a right bastard sometimes, but I think he'll like you. You're family, after all. Oh, but don't bring up Lucius or he might break something. In fact, don't bring up anything to do with Hogwarts or wizards or … okay, so maybe you should just let him do most of the talking."  
  
         "Who?" Harry asked, bewildered.  
  
         Aiya threw up her hands in exasperation. "Haven't you been listening to me?"  
  
 _She means Rauko_ , a Mori spirit whispered in Harry's mind, followed by an outbreak of voices, both young and old, male and female, and some of them determined to spook the young morion …  
  
 _Rauko is coming …_  
  
 _He might seem like an angel, Harry, but he's a real demon underneath …_  
  
 _I don't envy you, dearie … he's a tough one,  he is …_  
  
 _… there's a reason his mother named him Rauko._  
  
         … and many more similar messages were pressed into Harry's aching head until he forced them out and formed a barrier in his mind, but one word echoed over and over before fading out: _demon, demon, demon…_  
  
         "What the hell was that about?" he croaked, massaging his temples.  
  
         Aiya looked amused, turning her head slightly as if listening to some far away sound, then chuckled. "So that's what they were saying? They're just teasing you, Harry. My father is perfectly harmless." But her lips had curved into that slow, wicked smile that always unnerved Harry. Nothing good ever came of that smile.   
  
         "If he's anything like you, then forgive me if I don't believe you," he said grumpily. "And what's all this demon business?"  
  
         Aiya laughed. "Rauko is an Elvish word that means 'demon.' Many people over the years have thought the name is well-deserved in my father's case."  
  
         "Your father's name is _demon_?" Harry couldn't imagine the mindset of a mother who would purposefully give such a name to her child. He squinted his eyes at her, regarding her suspiciously. "And what does Aiyana mean? 'Troll?'"  
  
         She stuck out her tongue at him. "No, smarty-pants, it means 'eternal bloom.' It's not Elvish, anyway, not like my middle name."  
  
         "Which is Helin," Harry supplied the name, earning a grin from his sister, "and means 'violet.' See? I listen to you …"  
  
         "When it suits you," she groused good-naturedly.   
  
         "And you only tell me things when it suits you, so we're even," he said, softening the harsh statement with a small smile.  
  
         Aiya, to her credit, accepted the censure wholeheartedly. "Yes, that was wrong of me. Severus even tried to warn me - he said keeping secrets from you was the surest way to alienate you."  
  
         Harry blinked. "He did?"  
  
         "Mm-hmm," Aiya said, tracing symbols in the dust on the floor with her fingertip. "He even showed something resembling respect towards Sirius for always being so open with you about everything, though not without throwing in an insult at the same time."  
  
         Harry chuckled. Yes, that sounded like Severus. The feud between Severus and Sirius needed to be resolved - and soon, because Harry didn't plan on listening to the two of them bicker for the rest of his life. _Christmas this year is going to be very interesting_ , he decided.   
  
         "So," Aiya went on, wiping the dust from her hands and clasping them together in her lap, "I've decided to come clean about everything. Including Draco."  
  
         That got Harry's attention and his head snapped up, his gaze riveted to Aiya's pale, pained expression. He scarcely dared to breathe in case she might change her mind and keep her secrets about the haughty Slytherin.  
  
         "You see, Harry - " she began earnestly, but then they both froze into silence as the room was flooded with a powerful presence. [He's here,] she pressed into his mind, adding apologetically, [I'll tell you everything later.]  
  
         Harry was too distracted by the sheer overwhelming intensity of their interruption to be disgruntled by it, the darkness of the far left side of the room fairly roiling as the shadows parted and revealed a tall, imposing man, broad-shouldered and muscular, dressed in a black pin-striped suit, the only hint of color in his wardrobe being the bright red tie that was now draped loosely around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt left undone and giving him the look of a businessman or a barrister just home from a long day of work. His hair, the same long, silky ebony of his daughter (and, to be fair, quite similar to his 'adopted' son's coloring as well), was streaked here and there with silver, but the aristocratic, well-defined beauty of his face contained no sign of age. If Harry had been pressed to guess his age, he would have said that the morion before him was no older than Bill Weasley. This was the oldest morion alive? _Ancient_ , Aiya had said. Well, if this was what ancient looked like according to Mori standards, then Harry didn't think he would mind getting old. If any age or depth of wisdom could be found, it was in the bright violet of the morion's eyes. Those eyes fixed their gaze on Harry, and he felt Rauko's presence invade his mind, bypassing every defense and barrier, rendering Harry as helpless to protect his mind as he'd been before he started Occlumency lessons back in his fifth year. His weakness in turn stirred up his anger and he fought with all his willpower to shove the invader out of his thoughts, not pausing to consider that it might be unwise to do battle, such as it were, with the leader of the Mori.  
  
         [ _Get. Out_.] Harry confronted Rauko, channeling all of his energy into  those two words. Enough dark energy and wild magic still ran through his veins to give power to his rebellion, and he managed to block Rauko's assault for several seconds before his barriers fell once more. However, Rauko only lingered for a few seconds, as if to prove he could still overpower Harry if he really wanted to, then his presence was retracted and Harry's mind was his own again.  
  
         "That was rude, even for you," Aiya scolded her father without humor, standing up and pulling Harry up with her, presenting a united front against the self-satisfied morion sauntering their way.  
  
         "He is strong." Rauko's voice was low and sensual, thickly accented, though Harry could only guess it was an Elvish accent for it didn't sound like any accent he'd heard before - there was something melodic about it, as if every word Rauko uttered was the note of a song. "Not many can stand up to me, and certainly not a young one such as this."  
  
         "You're such a bully," Aiya wasn't about to be swayed from her irritation. "Would it really have hurt you to have said, ' _Why hello, Harry, good to see you. You wouldn't happen to mind me taking a peek into your brain, now would you? No? Well, then, I'll try to make this as painless as possible_ …' or something of the same?"  
  
         Harry pressed his lips into one tight, thin line as he listened to Aiya do her mocking impression of Rauko's baritone, trying his hardest not to burst out laughing. Rauko had an excellent poker face, not reacting outwardly to his daughter's taunts, so Harry wasn't sure whether his laughter would be appreciated. He was still wary of the 'demon' father of his sister, especially after the display of power he'd just been subjected to, and he didn't think it would be smart to make him angry.  
  
         "If I have offended, I apologize," Rauko said evenly, offering Harry a placid smile, but when he turned to look at Aiya his entire expression changed, the smile disappearing as he pinned his daughter with a disapproving glare, "though it is hardly proper for a child to correct her father so insolently."  
  
 _Wow, that look was almost Severus-worthy_ , Harry thought with a suppressed grin. _Maybe that's why Aiya took to Severus so quickly when she was little - maybe he reminded her of Rauko._  
  
         Both Aiya and Rauko turned to look at Harry and he belatedly remembered that he was dealing with two thought-sensitive Mori who could read him like a book. He shrugged, adding out loud, "Well, it's possible, isn't it?"  
  
         Aiya grinned, looking up at her father with a kinder expression before turning back to Harry and nodding. "Something like that. They can both be the worst sort of bastards, you know?"  
  
         "Children should be seen and not heard," Rauko dismissed Aiya's comment with the age-old philosophy, excluding her from the conversation as he slipped an arm around Harry's shoulder and began leading him away from the sputtering morwen. "I happen to find Severus to be capable and clever, for a human, and I was delighted when Aiya told me that he is your _maranwe_. Such a discovery is rare among our kind. However, you run the risk of losing him while he is still human, Harry. You really should turn him at the first convenient opportunity - "  
  
         "You know Severus's views on being turned and I won't let you use Harry to pressure him," Aiya interrupted, leaving Harry to wonder just what those views were … and what did Rauko mean by telling Harry he might lose Severus? Just the usual 'he could die from the Killing Curse' reasoning? Or was there something deeper to it?   
  
         "He should abandon that old fool and join with us," Rauko seemed to direct his words to Harry alone, though Harry couldn't help but feel that he was simply the go-between in this father/daughter debate. "We Mori have survived the wars of the humans for many, many centuries, and this one shall be no different. It would be better to have Severus safe with us than putting himself in constant danger to spy for Dumbledore, don't you agree?"  
  
         Harry could see Rauko's point, though the seductive, persuasive way Rauko spoke might have influenced him more than he realized. He, himself, hated the war with a passion, but there were innocent people to think of - people who would be killed as ruthlessly as his parents had been if he walked away from the wizarding world. He wanted nothing more than to convince Severus to abandon his 'double agent' role, but he also knew that Severus felt just as he did about the war - the burden of duty weighed heavily on both of them.   
  
         "I've already asked him to stop spying but he won't," Harry finally said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Rauko.   
  
         "We didn't come here about Severus," Aiya nudged her way back into the conversation, physically separating Harry and her father and positioning herself between them. "I need you to examine Harry."  
  
         "Ah yes," Rauko set aside the subject of Severus as he took a closer look at Harry. "Well, then, let's get started." He shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossing it and his tie to the dusty, dirty floor without a thought. Aiya mumbled her disapproval, rescuing them both and placing them carefully on the rickety railing of the staircase.  
  
         "You are moontouched, are you not?" Rauko began his examination, turning Harry's face this way and that as he questioned him.  
  
         "Err, yes," Harry answered reluctantly, not sure he liked the way he was being poked and prodded. He felt like a lab rat.  
  
         "Your birth sign?"  
  
         "Leo."  
  
         Rauko frowned at that answer, shaking his head. "A fire sign ruled by the sun? Not exactly beneficial to your new heritage."  
  
         "Umm … sorry?" Harry looked to Aiya for help but she, too, seemed to agree with her father's assessment that Harry had been born under an unlucky sign.   
  
         "Our race is greatly affected by the movement of the planets and the stars because we are so intimately connected with nature. The majority of stillborns among the Mori occur during the Summer Solstice or under the sign of Leo, and those who manage to survive are often plagued with illness. It could be affecting your own development, but we'll see," Rauko carried on, brusque and business-like. "Now then, what is your familiar?"  
  
         "My … familiar?" He wondered if perhaps Rauko was referring to Hedwig, and he opened his mouth to give this answer but suddenly Aiya was butting in.  
  
         "Raven," she said succinctly, and this answer brought the pleased smile back to Rauko's face.  
  
         "Finally, another raven," he said with obvious satisfaction.  
  
         [His is raven, too,] Aiya told Harry with a roll of her eyes.  
  
         "I heard _and_ saw that," Rauko said with a glare at his impertinent daughter. "What of Severus? His dormant familiar must be quite strong as well …"  
  
         "Panther," Aiya snapped, making it clear that she was not happy with her father's insistence to bring Severus back into the discussion.  
  
         "The raven and the panther," Harry murmured to himself, thinking back to the dreams he'd had during the feverish period when his body was changing from human to Mori. Maybe the familiar that Rauko referred to was more of a spiritual companion than a physically present one, like Hedwig.   
  
         There was a strange gleam in Rauko's vividly purple eyes as he turned to Aiya and asked, "Have you read for Harry yet? What have you seen?"  
  
         "No, I haven't read for him yet, but I don't see what that has to do with - " she stopped short, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at her father in suspicion. "You're scheming something. What is it, _atar_?"  
  
         But Rauko turned out to be as adept as his daughter at keeping secrets, and he merely shrugged and turned back to a much-confused Harry. He leaned in close, bathing Harry in an aura that was intimidating and powerful but also comforting, with Rauko's woodsy scent soothing his frayed nerves. _How can someone be so frightening and yet so reassuring at the same time?_ Harry wondered. 'Raven is caught between two worlds,' he remembered Aiya telling Sirius on the first night he'd met her, and he could now understand what the Mori spirit had told him about Rauko: a mix of angel and demon. He wondered if that strange dichotomy existed inside of himself as well, since the raven supposedly figured as heavily in Harry's life as it did in Rauko's.   
  
         "Aiyana tells me you have been having trouble controlling yourself," Rauko finally said, slowly circling Harry as he continued to study him, his presence often brushing against Harry's mind but never invading it like it had upon their first introduction. "I need you to describe everything you have been experiencing, every detail, no matter how small, so that I can decide how best to help you."  
  
         Harry took a deep breath and told Rauko the story of everything that had happened since the night Aiya 'adopted' him into the Evernight bloodline. Some things he glossed over, not willing to spill intimate details about his trysts with Severus or discuss any of the 'investigating' he'd been doing on the whole Draco/Aiya mystery, but Rauko seemed more interested in the dark energy that erupted inside of Harry whenever he was separated too long from Severus, as well as the way these separations affected his magic and turned it into something wild and unpredictable.  
  
         "It is because you are _maranwe_ that your magic responds so powerfully to Severus," Rauko said once Harry had finished, "but I am unsure as to why your body retains all the energy it creates - it is as if you are …"  
  
         "… not grounded," Aiya supplied the end of her father's sentence and the two Mori looked at each other, nodding simultaneously in agreement.  
  
         "There's one way to find out," Rauko said, flashing Harry that same wicked smile that Aiya had inherited, prompting a return of the nervous knots in his stomach. [This shouldn't hurt a bit,] the rich timbre of Rauko's voice drifted into Harry's mind but did little to ease his fears, especially when Rauko turned to Aiya and ordered sharply in Elvish, " _Cronha ho_."  
  
         "You can't be serious!" Aiya protested, leaving Harry to guess that whatever Rauko was saying, it wasn't good.  
  
         " _Cronha ho_ ," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument, and with a heavy sigh Aiya turned to Harry, drawing out a wand from her jacket.  
  
         [Just remember to breathe,] she mysteriously instructed him, and then she was pointing the wand at Harry (who was so shocked to see her wielding a wand that he didn't even try to prepare himself for what she might do with it) and suddenly shouted, " _Crucio_!"  
  
         The spell struck Harry in the center of his chest, knocking the wind out of him, but instead of blinding pain, all he could feel was a thick, heavy weight of energy constricting around his chest, cutting off his air altogether. This was ten times worse than how he'd felt at supper. Then, he'd only felt discomfort at being so full of energy, like an over-inflated balloon. Now, he felt that at any second he would be ripped apart by all the dark energy painfully building up in his body, and he was choking on it, slowly being smothered to death by his sister's magic.  
  
         [Breathe!] Aiya reminded him, and with considerable effort Harry gasped for air, solving the oxygen problem, but he was still so overcome by the dark magic of Aiya's spell that he sank to his knees. Wasn't he supposed to be okay when hit by a spell like _Crucio_? That was what everyone had been telling him so far - so why did it feel like he was about to bust open like a birthday piñata?  
  
         "Interesting," Rauko murmured, but Aiya was hardly impressed by Harry's near-death experience and she rushed forward to take him into her arms.   
  
         "He's in pain," she hissed at Rauko, placing one hand over the area of Harry's chest where her spell had struck, the other curling around his shoulders and hugging him to her as she lent him her comforting presence. Rauko continued to survey the two siblings dispassionately, his eyes two slits of thoughtful lavender as he centered his attention on Harry's pale face and agonized expression, until Aiya's furious shout of, "Do something, _atar_!" roused him from his reverie.  
  
         Calmly, he knelt in front of Harry, gently pulling Aiya away from her brother and pushing her aside, silencing her with a single look when she opened her mouth to protest. Harry was too busy struggling to breathe to appreciate the subtle conflict between father and daughter that occurred in that shared glance, but suddenly Aiya's presence had faded from his frantic mind and Rauko's voice was in his head, lulling him into a sort of trance where the heaviness of the energy trapped inside of his body was a distant problem, his mind separating from the physical turmoil his body continued to suffer as he listened to Rauko's words.  
  
         [The darkness overpowers you because you fight it. Fear, anger, pain, even hate … it feeds off these things, not because it is evil as the wizards would have you believe, but because these are strong emotions. It feeds as eagerly off of love, hope, and joy … which is why Severus inspires such a strong magical response in you … but the humans have come to fear the darkness, and so it takes its food where it can find it, as any creature would. It clings to magic cast out of anger or malice because it seeks fuel to sustain itself. We Mori, born of night and shadow, are not affected by magic tainted with darkness. It flows through us harmlessly, sending the darkness back to its roots - the sky, the earth, the sea - and we neutralize its power.]  
  
         [Think of us as the lightening rods of dark magic,] Aiya's voice chimed in, and Rauko chuckled at her analogy.  
  
         [Yes, that is how the wizards saw us. We protected them, for the dark magic entered our bodies then dispersed, leaving them safe from curses and hexes that might otherwise have killed them.]   
  
         [But the darkness isn't dispersing from your body, Harry.] Aiya's voice had softened to a whisper in his mind, and Harry felt her guilt and sadness at being the cause of his current state.  
  
         [In most Mori, this would be considered a serious birth defect,] Rauko said off-hand, and the despair at hearing this must have shown on Harry's face or in his thoughts because Rauko's voice deepened sympathetically as he added, [I said in _most_ Mori, Harry, but with you it could be different. The strength I first felt in you when you fought my presence in your mind - were you harnessing the dark energy inside of you at that moment?]  
  
         There was a flicker of surprise and understanding in Harry's mind thatwas not his own, but was his sister's, and he wondered what epiphany Aiya was having while he himself was just as muddled and confused as ever. [I … I think so,] he managed to reply, still a little lost and dreamy as he drifted in this new world that consisted only of voices and darkness.  
  
         [Good, good. I'm going to wake you, Harry, and it will certainly hurt at first, but Aiyana and I will be right here. Nothing bad will happen to you. Just listen to me and do as I say, no matter how absurd it might sound.]  
  
 _Have I been asleep?_ was Harry's only thought before suddenly he was falling, returning to the waking world with a jolt as he sucked in a breath of stale, musty air. Pain sliced through his head and his chest, centering mainly on the area where Aiya's spell had struck him. The pressure of all that dark magic was like having Dudley sitting on his chest, and Harry was surprised his bones and organs were all still intact.  
  
         [Relax,] was Rauko's unspoken command. The pain and the fear overruled any willpower Harry had to obey, but then Rauko had captured Harry's green gaze, the hypnotic purple of his eyes forcing Harry's compliance where mere words had failed. Only when he'd imprisoned Harry with those eyes did he repeat his command. [ _Relax_.]  
  
 _Easier said than done_ , Harry thought. He found that if he concentrated only on his breathing, over time the tension would drain from his muscles. This, in turn, made it easier for him to breathe, and in time he was as relaxed as he was ever going to be while filled with what felt like enough dark energy to blow up an entire army of Death Eaters. Throughout it all, his eyes never left Rauko's, and for the first time he felt the tentative link of a bond forming between them. Nowhere near as strong as his bonds to Aiya or Severus, but a bond nonetheless.  
  
         [Excellent. Now, I want you to force all that energy into your hands.]  
  
         Harry stared at Rauko. _Was he insane?_ Forcing all that energy into his hands would probably end in self-amputation! He could just imagine explaining _that_ injury to Madame Pomfrey. He'd heard of kids blowing up their hands with firecrackers, but at least that was accidental.  
  
         [Trust me, Harry.] Rauko's voice was stern but laced with amusement.  
  
         [So glad you find this funny,] Harry sulked, glaring at the dancing purple of Rauko's eyes, but after one last hesitant sigh, he began to push all that trapped magic through his body towards his hands. The sensation in his fingertips went from mild tingling to full-blown tremors, similar to what he'd suffered right before confronting Severus earlier in the evening, but somehow he had more control over the pulsing energy pooling in his hands. Maybe it was the discipline it took to force the flow of the magic, or it might have been the strength lent to him by his sister and Rauko, but Harry could definitely sense a higher degree of influence over the energy inside him.  
  
         [It feels wonderful, doesn't it?] Rauko's words were soft and persuasive in Harry's mind, as hypnotic as his eyes. [This is power, Harry. This is what it feels like to take your enemy's magic and turn it against him. Think, Harry - what if it had been Voldemort who tried to curse you? Imagine it is his magic you hold in your hands. What would you do with it? How would you use that power?]  
  
 _I would … I would …_ Harry's mind sought to form an answer to Rauko's questions but then Aiya leapt in to the rescue, shoving her father and breaking the eye contact between the two morions. Released from Rauko's intense gaze, Harry's mind cleared and he felt more like himself again, though his hands still throbbed painfully with the amount of magic that remained literally at his fingertips.  
  
         "Knock it off, old man," Aiya snapped at Rauko.  
  
         "You're as straight-laced as your mother," Rauko growled back, but affectionately, not appearing to mind the way his daughter had just body-checked him. He stood, brushing the dust off his now-ruined trousers, then walked around behind Harry and helped hoist him up, holding onto his elbows and carefully keeping Harry's hands from touching anything. "Can you blame a father for wanting his child to carry on the Mori tradition of ruthless world domination?"  
  
         "Since when is that the Mori tradition?" came Aiya's sarcastic question, even as she helped Rauko steer Harry towards the center of the room.  
  
         "Since I found a Mori who could pull it off," Rauko replied with a grin, one that Harry echoed as he listened to the two taunting each other.  
  
         "Oh, will you just get on with it?" Aiya said impatiently, but she was too sweet tempered to hold a grudge for long, even against her scoundrel of a father.

         "Aiyana and I are going to stand over there," Rauko told Harry, pointing to a far corner of the room. "When you feel ready, I want you to raise your hands out in front of you and say a spell, any spell, while focusing on pushing all that energy out of your hands and into the air. Understand?"  
  
         "Err … yes, I suppose so," Harry said uncertainly, a little put-off by the way Rauko was edging away from him, as if Harry had an infectious disease or something. "Is this safe?"  
  
         "Oh, perfectly safe," Rauko assured him, but by now he was halfway to the corner where Aiya was already waiting. She smiled at Harry and gave him an encouraging nod, but his instincts were telling him otherwise. Then again, what was the worst that could happen? It wasn't as if breaking a chair or smashing a window in the Shrieking Shack was going to matter much to anyone; the place was already a run-down mess. Also, he had no wand, and since wandless magic was not really his specialty, he probably wouldn't produce anything too destructive.  
  
         "Here goes," he muttered to himself, raising his hands palms-out toward the boarded-up window across from him. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the energy pulsing in his hands and said in a loud, firm voice, " _Reducto_!"  
  
         And with a thunderous explosion heard in every corner of Hogsmeade, he blew the entire wall away.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **Atar** \- Father  
>  **"Crohna ho"** \- "Attack him"


	21. Secrets

 

         Harry stood frozen with his trembling hands still raised up, his palms facing the empty stretch of night that now loomed in front of him. Dust and debris continued to trickle down from above in the aftermath of the explosion, and the front lawn of the Shrieking Shack was now littered with broken glass and heaps of splintered wood.  
  
         "Oops," was Aiya's comment from the far corner of the room.  
  
         The house gave a low, creaking groan, as if in pain, and suddenly Harry felt strong arms wrapping around him and lifting him effortlessly, carrying him out into the cool, autumn night only seconds before the room he'd just been standing in collapsed under the weight of the second floor, that part of the shack no longer stable after Harry had weakened the structure with his blast of dark magic.  
  
         "They'll have felt that one for miles," Rauko's voice filled Harry's ears as he gently set him down a safe distance from the wreckage. The tall, dewy grass tickled Harry's bare feet.  
  
         "And they might think the worst," Aiya added, standing just off to the right, much to Harry's relief. There was a long scratch on her left arm and bits of wood and plaster were tangled in her dark hair, but otherwise she seemed to be fine. Rauko appeared completely unscathed, not even a hair out of place, and his quick reaction had shielded Harry from harm as well. "Word spreads fast among wizards. No doubt the Ministry will send out its Aurors to see whether Voldemort is up to his old tricks."  
  
         " _Aurors_ ," Rauko hissed the word, his contempt twisting the striking beauty of his face into something fierce and terrifying, a glimpse of the demon that lurked within the angelic exterior. Then, with a shake of his head, he adopted a calm, confident expression, his smile only slightly malicious as he added, "Let them come. It is night and we have the advantage."  
  
         "And risk exposure?" Aiya glared at her father. "Do you _really_ want to give the Ministry a heads-up that the Mori aren't as extinct as they thought? It's bad enough we have Voldemort to worry about."  
  
         Harry let them argue, still astounded by what had just happened. How had one wandless _Reducto_ done so much damage?  The entire area felt charged, energy crackling in the air after the release of such a strong spell.   
  
         "Fine, we will go." Rauko gave up the argument and began to methodically inspect Harry, making sure he was uninjured. "How are you feeling, Harry? How are your hands?"  
  
         Harry slowly looked down at his still-trembling hands that glowed the same ghostly white as the rest of his skin under the moonlight. "They - they still tingle a bit." He flexed his fingers, surprised at how normal they felt after containing so much raw energy. He'd expected them to be sore or stiff, but other than the faintest tremble of residual magic, they felt perfectly fine.  
  
         "I suppose letting you pick just any spell was a bit off," Rauko said carelessly, staring off into the distanceas if his mind was re-calculating all the steps he had taken that led to this moment so he could pick out his mistakes and rectify them for future experiments.  
  
         " _You're_ a bit off," Aiya grumbled, beckoning the shadows so they could all slip into the void. The wonderful thing about the night was that any given spot in the open darkness could be converted into a threshold, making it the best place to hide. Finding a Mori in the dead of night was nearly impossible if the creature didn't want to be found.  
  
         "Mind your tongue, Aiyana," Rauko admonished her with that same careless tone of voice, as if his thoughts weren't really connected to what he was saying. His violet eyes were focused on Harry, who could now feel the barriers that separated his mind from Rauko's, impenetrable walls that prevented Harry from even guessing at what Rauko was thinking.  
  
         [What's wrong?] Harry wasn't sure whether his silent question had reached Rauko through those barriers until he broke into a smile, grasping Harry's arm and leading him towards the threshold Aiya had created.  
  
         [You and I must have a talk, Harry … without your sister's presence. Not now, but soon.] Rauko let go of Harry's arm so he could stroke his hand over Harry's hair, a gentle, affectionate touch that seemed almost fatherly. And yet, there was something glinting in Rauko's eyes that kept Harry cautious. He had been manipulated enough in his life to get a sense of when someone had deftly inserted him right into the middle of one of their plans, and he hoped that whatever Rauko was scheming wouldn't be quite the large-scale, fight-to-the-death sort of scenario that Dumbledore had roped Harry into lately.  
  
         Taking Harry's silence as an agreement, Rauko appeared to revert back to his own thoughts, but suddenly he was back inside Harry's mind, a tremor of excitement coloring his words as he asked, [You and Severus … you _will_ mate soon, won't you?]  
  
         Harry could feel himself blush, his cheeks glowing such a bright red that Aiya frowned and glanced at the two of them suspiciously.  
  
         [I don't … I mean … well - ] Harry was saved from having to answer the question by the sudden appearance of a floating light just beyond the Shrieking Shack, the illuminated glow of someone's wand as he or she came investigating.  
  
         "Into the void. _Now_." Aiya said, urging Harry to go in before her, ignoring the shout of alarm from the darkness beyond as the person caught sight of them.  
  
         Harry wanted to stay and see who it was coming up the long, weedy lane towards the shack, but Aiya prodded him along into the void, eager to get back to the school. The three walked in silence until they came to the first wall in their path - one of the wards that Aiya had talked about - and here Rauko would go no further.  
  
         [Be safe,] he said, kissing Aiya's cheek and ruffling Harry's hair, then turning to walk a different path through the void. Before he was out of sight, however, he turned around, his voice echoing in both of their minds though his words were for his daughter. [That other boy - it ends now, Aiyana. Do you understand?]  
  
         Aiya turned pale, her eyes darkening to indigo, but she dutifully nodded in agreement with her father's command.   
  
         Once Rauko disappeared from sight and his powerful presence had faded from Harry's mind, Harry turned to his sister with an anxious frown. He could feel the sadness radiating off of her in waves - she didn't even try to hide it from him this time, for which he was oddly grateful - and though he guessed its cause, he wanted to hear her say it all the same.  
  
         [Was he talking about Draco?] Harry watched his sister trace a rune in the air with her fingertips to remove the magical roadblock from their path.   
  
         Aiya paused, staring into the endless darkness of the void, then she took Harry's hand and walked forward, keeping him close as they retraced the path they'd taken out of the school earlier. Her voice in his mind was weary but resigned. [Yes.]  
  
         [How does he know?] Harry didn't think Aiya would tell Rauko about her attraction to the son of a man who'd tried to enslave her, especially when Aiya had been hiding her meetings with Draco from everyone, including Severus and perhaps even Dumbledore.  
  
         Aiya's bitter laughter filled Harry's mind. [I've never been able to hide anything from him. His mind talents are legendary among our people. You felt it, remember?]  
  
         Yes, Harry remembered perfectly how helpless he'd felt when Rauko first invaded his mind. He wondered what it would be like to have a parent who always knew when you were lying - to know that anytime you did something wrong or broke a rule, you could never cover it up with an excuse or an innocent look. Harry knew that he would have considerable trouble keeping Rauko out of his mind should he think it necessary to plunder Harry's thoughts once again, unless he was full to the bursting of that dark magic, and even then his resistance would hardly be unlimited. Eventually, the magic would be drained and Harry's barriers would fall. It was a disquieting thought.  
  
         [Do you … want to talk about it?] he asked her hesitantly, dying to know how Draco had wormed his way into Aiya's rooms, but he didn't consider it worth causing Aiya additional and unnecessary pain. [It's okay if you don't, of course.]  
  
         [Liar.] Aiya's voice had regained some of its light-hearted sweetness as she teased him, and she squeezed his hand, grateful that he loved her enough not to pressure her to do something painful if she didn't want to. [Anyway, you need to know, especially now that I can't help him anymore.]  
  
         Harry was unprepared for the storm of emotions that struck him once Aiya fully opened her mind to him, feeding him snatches of memories and dreams, telling him in pictures and sounds what she could not put into words. Mostly, he was seeing Draco through Aiya's eyes, each swiftly changing moment showing him an aspect of his rival that he'd never seen before - the depths of sadness in Draco's blue-grey eyes or the brief but sincere smile that lit his expression in an unguarded moment - had Harry ever seen Draco do anything but sneer? It was strange to see facets of the Slytherin that Harry would never have believed existed. All the while, Aiya led him through the void as one would lead the blind, letting him absorb the initial shock of her strongest feelings before speaking softly into his mind once more.  
  
         [He came up to me that first day of classes. He was so scared, Harry. I know you dislike him, and I can't say I blame you after hearing some of your stories, but he's not the monster you think he is. His father is pressuring him to take the Mark. There have been … beatings. Violent enough that he spent the first week of school under a strong glamour … one that even _I_ had trouble detecting.]  
  
         Harry frowned, pushing aside the images in his mind to concentrate on his own memories. Had he noticed anything strange about Draco during that first day? Other than his little chat with Aiya, of course. _He was thinner_ , he recollected, narrowing his eyes as he reflected on his first impression of Draco during that fight with Ron. _And something else … some kind of shimmer …_ Had that been a glamour? An impressive one, if so, though Harry had never doubted Draco's magical abilities, being second only to Hermione in grades.  
  
         [He says his father isn't himself anymore, that he thinks Lucius is being changed by Voldemort.] Here, Aiya fell silent for several seconds, clearly struggling with her own feelings about Lucius. When she spoke again, her tone had darkened drastically. [He still loves him, Harry, even after the beatings and the threats … and he's so sure that his father still loves him, too. Can you imagine? To love someone who hurts you like that … ]  
  
         No, Harry couldn't imagine that. He'd suffered abuse, himself, at the hands of the Dursleys. There had been no beatings, but the psychological torment and the forced servitude, not to mention locking him away every chance they got and nearly starving him, all these things had taken their toll over the years and he doubted that he would ever feel anything but contempt for the Muggle family that had raised him.   
  
         [He caved in to his father's demand right before school started, but said he wanted to finish school before joining. Lucius agreed, it seems, but Draco has no intention of becoming a Death Eater. He plans to go into hiding. His mother has set aside money for him but can't do much else to help him. Draco came to me wanting additional lessons in Defense. That much I told you was true. He wants to be as prepared as possible in case his father or any other Death Eater tracks him down. That's all it was, at first. Neither of us thought that we'd - ] Aiya broke off, and they walked in silence until they reached the last ward. It would only be a few more minutes before they made it inside of Hogwarts. [There's so much more to him than you would guess, Harry. The face he shows to the world, that's not the real him, and I think his bullying is more a reflection of Lucius's influence than Draco's true nature. When we're alone, he can be so … ] but again, words failed her, and she could not complete the thought.  
  
         _They are a good match_ , a Mori spirit piped up in Harry's head. It was a child's voice in pitch but there was an ageless wisdom woven into the tone that reminded Harry of Rauko.   
  
         Harry carefully closed off his mind from Aiya so there would be no possibility of her overhearing his side of the conversation. _What do you mean?_  
  
         _Maranwe is rare. These two will never find maranwe, but they have found something just as precious in each other ..._  
  
         _So her being with Draco would actually be a good thing?? That's ridiculous!_ The fact that he was reacting to the idea of Aiya and Draco as a couple in much the same manner that Sirius would probably react to his relationship with Severus never crossed Harry's mind. All he knew was that if the Mori spirit was right, then Aiya's torture had just begun. Did Rauko know? Had Rauko guessed?  
  
         _The father knows but he fears for her. He will not tell her.  'She may come to love another' … this is what he thinks. We spirits do not foresee any other such match in her future … but he will not be persuaded. His wish to protect her is too strong._  
  
         _Why are you telling me this?_ Harry asked the spirit, angry that he'd been given this unwanted information. He would have been perfectly happy to remain ignorant of Draco's extreme compatibility with his sister. Why should he bear the burden of knowing Aiya would never be as happy with anyone else as she could be with Draco?  
  
         _You wished to have answers … did you not?_ The spirit then faded from his mind and Harry was aware of Aiya's voice on the edge of his awareness.  
  
         [Harry? Are you okay? I know it's a lot to take in, and I know it doesn't change much about how you feel about Draco, but …]  
  
         _Should I tell her? Can I live with myself if I don't tell her? But would telling her be the right thing?_ Harry was driving himself crazy with questions. His first instinct had been to come clean, to pass over the spirit's insight to Aiya, just as she had passed on similar information to Severus in the past. But old prejudices kept him silent. If Rauko didn't trust Draco with Aiya's happiness, then Harry had even fewer reasons to do so. He would wait and see what happened. He would keep this one secret from her, _for her own good_. The hypocrisy of his decision didn't register with him at the time.  
  
         [Why didn't he go to Severus?] he asked, covering for his long silence. [Why risk going to you, a stranger, when Severus is so much closer to him?]  
  
         [He thinks Severus is a Death Eater. He isn't sure if he can trust him or not.]   
  
         _That makes sense_ , Harry thought. He'd grown so accustomed to seeing Severus as a member of the Order that he kept forgetting that the rest of the wizarding world might think otherwise. And Draco, who was probably privy to a lot of Death Eater business simply because of his father, would know Severus had rejoined … but not that Severus had returned only to spy.   
  
         They were inside the school now. Even in the void, Harry could sense the unique magical presence that filled Hogwarts' halls. It was comforting and brought with it a feeling of home and security. On the threshold of entering Aiya's rooms, she stopped and turned to him.   
  
         [Harry … I have a favor to ask.]  
  
         Still feeling a bit guilty about not telling her what the spirit said, Harry was ready to agree to anything she asked. [Sure, what is it?]  
  
         [Convince Draco to go to Severus. He might listen to you. After all, you'd be the last person to say anything nice about Severus,] a teasing smile here, since they both knew how drastically Harry's opinions had changed since the end of summer, [so your vote of confidence might be enough to get him to open up. I doubt you could get him to go to Dumbledore - he doesn't trust him - but I think he admires Severus, and he really needs to have someone on his side right now.]  
  
         _Yeah, but does it have to be my boyfriend?_ was Harry's selfish thought, but Aiya's pleading eyes overruled any reluctance Harry felt and he agreed with a soundless sigh. [I'll see what I can do, but we aren't exactly on the best of terms, you know. Don't blame me if he ends up in the hospital wing with a broken nose.]  
  
         She grinned and hugged him, then they both stepped out of the void and into the dimly-lit living area of Aiya's private rooms. Standing a few feet away, as if waiting for their arrival, was a very agitated and sleep-deprived Severus.  
  
         "Finally!" he practically roared, and he marched over to Harry, running his hands over Harry's arms and torso, checking him for injuries just like Rauko had done outside the Shrieking Shack. Once he was satisfied that no harm had come to Harry, Severus turned his fury on Aiya. "Where have you been? Where did you take him? And why the blazes doesn't he have any shoes on?"  
  
         "That last part was actually my own fault," Harry tried to interject, but Severus was intent on taking out his worry and frustration on Aiya. Harry had never seen him so emotional, as if all his hard-fought control had abandoned him.  
  
         "Did you feel that blast of magic? They say it originated somewhere near Hogsmeade - the echo of it woke the entire school. And then Weasley realized Harry was gone and all hell broke loose. They've been searching everywhere for him. Albus guessed you might have had something to do with his disappearance so I was sent here to wait for your return, forced to sit and do nothing while my - while Harry was missing. Meanwhile, everyone is half-mad with the fear that Voldemort is attacking, or some other nonsense that isn't worth repeating." Severus paused, taking a deep breath, and for the first time he became aware of the dust and plaster that flecked Aiya's hair, and the smear of blood on her arm from where she was scratched. "What happened to you? It wasn't really an attack, was it?"  
  
         "No, Harry did some remodeling of the Shrieking Shack," Aiya said, plucking a tiny sliver of wood from her thick tresses and flicking it away in distaste.  
  
         "The Shrieking Shack?" Severus looked back at Harry, one hand reaching up to curl around Harry's neck, his thumb gently stroking along Harry's jawline. It seemed the more he touched Harry, the greater control he regained over his emotions. "Was it you, then? Did you have something to do with that aftershock of energy?"  
  
         Harry was being lulled into a deliciously relaxed state by that soothing touch, and his only answer was a murmured, "Just a little accident," prompting a knowing smile on Severus's lips.   
  
         Aiya cleared her throat, interrupting the quiet moment between the couple. "I think any explanations should wait until Dumbledore is here too. It's important that you both know what happened tonight so the necessary changes can be made."  
  
         Harry frowned. [Changes? What changes?] His silent inquiries to Aiya were met with only a plea for patience, and then she was gone, off to find Dumbledore so all four of them could discuss the night's misadventures.  


 


	22. To Stay Or To Go

 

         Harry turned back to Severus, ready to spill the entire story whether Dumbledore was there or not, but the instant he opened his mouth Severus was quick to claim it in a deep, sensual kiss, his clever tongue coaxing moans of encouragement out of Harry instead of the confession of where he'd been that night.  
  
       "Don't ever do that to me again," Severus whispered hoarsely against Harry's lips after he broke the lingering kiss.  
  
       "Do what?" Harry asked breathlessly.  
  
       "Disappear on me." Severus brushed his lips over Harry's cheek, then down along his jawline to his neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses over the soft skin of the his throat. Harry wasn't sure if Severus was talking about Harry's undisclosed field trip with Aiya or the earlier vanishing act he'd pulled in Severus's rooms. _Probably both_ , he decided.  
  
       "You could always put a leash on me," Harry said, teasingly, "and then you'd always know where I am."  
  
       "The thought has crossed my mind." Severus pushed up the hem of Harry's jersey only to find another layer of clothing underneath, the same navy blue t-shirt from earlier, and he impatiently pushed the thin cotton material up as well, his long, slender fingers sliding up Harry's flat stomach towards his chest, complaining between kisses, "Must you always wear so much clothing? It makes it harder for me to touch you like this," stroking his fingers over Harry's heated skin as if memorizing every inch.  
  
       Harry groaned and leaned into the touch, his tone only marginally defensive as he protested brokenly, "It's the _Dragon's Tears_ … makes me so cold at night … need to keep warm …"  
  
       Severus's hand stilled, much to Harry's undisguised disappointment. "You've been experiencing negative side effects? Why didn't you say anything before?" His hand slid out from under Harry's t-shirt, absently tugging the clothing back into place as he stared thoughtfully at the empty space over Harry's shoulder. Harry might have felt completely neglected had Severus not continued to touch him, almost unconsciously, stroking one hand up and down Harry's side while the other returned to Harry's neck, gently massaging the crook between neck and shoulder so expertly that Harry couldn't bring himself to protest Severus's apparent withdrawal into ' _Potions Master Mode_.'   
  
       "Perhaps the wormwood infusion was too strong," Severus muttered more to himself than to Harry, his inky black eyes narrowing in concentration as he pondered what might be causing the unwanted side effects. It amused Harry that Severus could be so distracted by the problem of an imperfect potion.   
  
       "Then it's probably a good idea I didn't drink my own potion, or I might have frostbite by now," Harry joked, his eyes grassy green with mirth as he recalled being told ' _too much wormwood, Potter_ ' during that first disastrous Potions class.  
  
       Harry's quiet chuckles brought Severus back from his contemplations of _Dragon's Tears_ and wormwood, and he raised a dark brow as he moved both arms to trap Harry in his embrace, his black gaze focusing only on Harry as he gazed down into those laughing green eyes.  
  
       "I have to admit," he said, a touch of wonder in his voice, "I never imagined I would ever see you smiling at me like this."  
  
       Harry's eyes darkened to an impassioned aquamarine, his heartbeat quickening as he shivered under Severus's intense stare, all too aware of their intimate proximity and the burning heat of Severus's palms pressed against his back, discernable even through two layers of clothing. The honesty in Severus's eyes, the openness of his expression, was as arousing to Harry as his kisses. He'd never considered sincerity to be an aphrodisiac, but when dealing with someone as secretive and aloof as Severus Snape, the effect of one heartfelt phrase, one vulnerable moment of letting Harry see beyond the usual cold mask of indifference, triggered a rush of dark energy and passion inside of Harry that sought immediate satisfaction.   
  
         With a feral growl, Harry crushed his lips against Severus's, his Mori instincts firmly in control as he plundered that hot, moist mouth. Severus seemed dazed at first by the ferocity of Harry's kiss, but he recovered swiftly, pulling Harry's body tight against his own as he kissed him back. Harry could feel his magic begin to grow, filling him again with that dangerous dark energy, but instead of the energy remaining trapped inside his body it seemed to flow through him harmlessly, some of it dissipating into the air but most of it seeking Severus, wrapping itself around his body. It must have felt very good because suddenly Severus hissed against Harry's mouth and pushed him back against the nearby wall, his hips thrusting forward to grind into Harry's as he tore his lips away to pant harshly in Harry's ear.  
  
       " _Nngh_ ," was all Harry could manage to grunt out as Severus dry-humped him up against the wall, pictures and paintings shaking with each rhythmic thump. Harry's head fell back as his eyes closed, so consumed by the magic and lust that Severus inspired in him that he didn't even hear Aiya's tentative voice in his mind. He was too busy drowning in pleasure as Severus forcefully lifted him up, Harry's legs wrapping around his waist so that they both could enjoy the harsher friction between their two bodies that such a position provided.  
  
       [Harry?] came the distant, intrusive voice of his sister, but Harry was in no state of mind to listen. Only when there was a loud series of knocks on the door to Aiya's room did Harry remember that they were waiting for Aiya and Dumbledore to return. Severus froze mid-thrust. Harry opened his eyes to see Severus with his own eyes squeezed shut, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily as he fought to regain some control over his body. With an agonized groan, he lowered Harry back to his feet.  
  
       [You have the worst timing,] Harry griped moodily to his sister. [Give us a minute, okay?] He waited for Aiya's silent assent before pressing a more chaste kiss to Severus's lips and moving away, giving them both the space needed to calm themselves before letting the others inside. He wished he was wearing robes similar to what Severus wore, the better to hide his very painful erection.  
  
       "Come in," Severus said in cold, clipped tones once the heat of the moment had passed and he was back to being his usual unflappable self.   
  
       Aiya and Dumbledore entered, the former blushing uncontrollably and the latter twinkling his blue eyes at everyone involved. With an impatient glare at them both, Severus walked over to the couch where Harry had already seated himself, claiming the spot next to him, though he was careful not to touch Harry just yet.   
  
       "It is good to see you are unharmed, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly, walking into the room and taking a seat in an armchair across from the other two men. Aiya followed, though she did pause to straighten a couple of pictures on the wall that had mysteriously gone crooked in her absence.   
  
       "Your sister informed me that we have you to thank for tonight's excitement," Dumbledore continued, "though she did not share any specific details with me yet."  
  
       "I wanted to wait until we were all together to save me the trouble of repeating it later," Aiya said, and, claiming the last armchair for herself, she began to recount the strange events that occurred at the Shrieking Shack, filling Severus and Dumbledore in on all of Rauko's theories, and describing the way Harry's unique case turned what most Mori would consider a crippling handicap into a powerful weapon.  
  
       "It's like stealing magic," Aiya said excitedly, reminding Harry vividly of Rauko. "Harry may have been the one to cast that spell, but it was _my_ magic he used. He absorbed the curse I used on him, harnessed the magic as his own then used it to blow apart that wall."  
  
       Even Dumbledore seemed surprised by this turn of events, but it was Severus who struck at the heart of the matter when he asked, "But is it safe? Harry is certainly a trouble-maker," a glare, here, from the morion sitting beside him, "but I don't think he would ever intend to destroy an entire wall."  
  
       "He does have trouble controlling the strength of his spells," Aiya admitted. "And he's been having similar problems during classes lately. If he keeps storing up huge amounts of energy, it could be dangerous to his classmates as well as himself. The only thing that seems to be a grounding influence on Harry's magic is …," she grinned, turning her lavender gaze on Severus, "… you."  
  
       Severus frowned and turned to Harry, who could only shrug and nod in agreement. It was true; the only time that restless energy found a natural outlet was when he was with Severus. Any other time, he had to force it out through a spell, and usually ended up sending someone to the infirmary at the same time.  
  
       Dumbledore, alone, seemed more concerned with Rauko than with Harry's new talent. "What does your father say about Harry's condition? What solution does he give?"  
  
       Aiya sighed. "That's why I wanted us to discuss this together. Father is dead set against leaving Harry here at Hogwarts. He thinks he would be safer with his own kind."  
  
       Harry opened his mouth to protest this but Aiya gestured for him to wait.  
  
       "I know, Harry. I already told him you wouldn't want that, and he finally agreed not to fight for your removal from the school. He did give a solution to Harry's magic problems, though, and with a little tweaking I think it might work."  
  
       "And what did he suggest?" Dumbledore seemed unnaturally suspicious, his bright blue eyes narrowed.  
  
       Aiya hesitated, as if trying to find a tactful way of presenting her father's solution, then she said slowly, "He thinks it best that … Harry move out of the dormitory and … well, move into Severus's rooms."  
  
       The room grew very quiet.  
  
       "He really suggested that?" Harry finally said, his timid question filling the silence.  
  
       Aiya sighed, tucking her feet underneath her as she adopted a more casual position. She glanced at the two older wizards, then turned to Harry with a wry grin. [Actually, he said 'Get Harry into Severus's bed where he belongs,' but I prefer my version.]  
  
       Harry made a small choking sound as he wrapped his brain around that one, really starting to feel the pressure from Rauko to consummate his relationship with Severus. Why was he pushing so hard for Harry and Severus to 'mate,' as he so quaintly put it?  
  
       Severus looked down at him in concern, though no other emotion could be glimpsed in his expression. Harry waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for the discussion to continue, then glared at his sister. [That was more information than I wanted to hear.]  
  
       "It would be difficult," Dumbledore said quietly. "Severus is a teacher. His relationship with Harry already compromises that position of authority. If it were known that Harry shared the same rooms as a teacher …"  
  
       "… it would be no less damning than if it were known that he and I are lovers," Severus cut in, surprising everyone with his words. He glanced at Harry, his piercing gaze softening for the brief moment that their eyes met, but when he looked back at Dumbledore it was with the icy mask restored. "Harry cannot continue to endanger the other students. If he needs continuous contact with me in order to control his magic, then we have to find a way to provide that to him for as long as he stays on here as a student. When it comes down to it, Rauko has offered the only two reasonable solutions: either Harry must leave Hogwarts, or he must stay with me." There was a short pause before Severus added firmly, "And I warn you, Albus … if Harry leaves, I am going with him."  
  
       Dumbledore's eyes completely lost their twinkle. "But your work - "  
  
       "Harry is more important," Severus insisted, his words sending a thrill through Harry. Severus met his mentor's frustrated gaze unflinchingly, adding coolly, "Don't you agree, Albus?"  
  
       Several more seconds of tense, terrifying silence passed before Dumbledore smiled, the sparkle back in his blue eyes, and he nodded his head slowly as if coming to terms with some long-suspected conclusion. "Yes, Severus. I completely agree. I will allow the change in Harry's living arrangements," he conceded, but continued in a stern voice, "as long as your relationship is kept secret. That means Harry's new accommodations are known only to the four of us in this room, is that clear? No exceptions."  
  
       "I suppose that's fair," Harry said idly, a little disoriented by this turn of events and more than a little annoyed that he had yet another secret to keep from the rest of the school, including Ron and Hermione. What sort of excuse could he give to his friends? Maybe if he said it was because of the Rhys incident and all the love potions? That it was for his safety? He was going to miss staying up at night talking with Ron, though he supposed he could still hang out in the Gryffindor common room as often as before ...   
  
       His musings were cut short when Severus suddenly rose to his feet, startling everybody as he clutched at his forearm. Fear bubbled up in Harry's throat. He didn't need to hear the professor's apologetic explanation to know what was going on: Severus's mark was burning. Voldemort was calling for him.  
  
       "News must have reached him about the magical disturbance outside of Hogsmeade," Severus said in a voice so calm and collected that Harry was amazed at his self-control. "He's probably summoning all of his followers to see if anyone has been … overstepping themselves." His words proved to be of little comfort to the two gloomy Mori who were looking at him with fear and concern, but Dumbledore nodded his head in agreement.  
  
       "I am sure you are right. The Ministry has already been in contact with me on the matter, so it is likely that Voldemort has had word of the incident as well. Go, Severus. Aiyana and I will see that Harry is looked after while you are gone." There was a note of indulgence in Dumbledore's voice, as if he sensed a reluctance in Severus to follow through with his dangerous duties now that he had someone in his life to protect.  
  
       Severus nodded, casting one last, lingering glance at Harry, then left the room.  
  
       "You should get some sleep, my boy," Dumbledore told Harry as he, too, stood up and walked towards the door.   
  
       "He can sleep here tonight," Aiya said. "I'll take the couch."  
  
       "That will be fine," Dumbledore said. He bid them both goodnight and then was gone, leaving the two Mori alone.  
  
       "Come on, Little Brother," Aiya said, pushing herself to her feet. "Time for bed."  
  
       Harry looked up at her with eyes of troubled jade, asking softly, "Can we just sit here for a while? I … I don't think I could sleep. Just sit with me … talk to me."  
  
       Aiya plopped down on the couch beside him. "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
       "Anything," Harry said wearily, covering his face with his hands as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He waited until the moment had passed before curling up against his sister's side and resting his head on her shoulder. "Just keep talking to me."  
  
       She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then leaned back and started telling him about her life before they met, sometimes even coaxing a chuckle out of him, and the two siblings kept each other company well into the morning hours, distracting each other from the fear in both their hearts as they waited for Severus to return.

 


	23. A Taste of Midnight

 

         Harry sat bleary-eyed and sullen throughout breakfast, ignoring Ron's questions and Hermione's worried looks as his two best friends interrogated him on where he'd been during the night's disturbance. His food remained untouched on his plate, his cup still full to the brim with pumpkin juice, but Harry knew he wouldn't be able to keep anything down while his stomach was so full of nervous knots. He kept sneaking furtive glances at the teachers' table where the seat next to Aiya's remained conspicuously vacant.   
  
         "At least tell us why all your stuff is gone," Ron persisted long after Hermione had given up trying to get Harry to talk. It was Ron who had suffered the most during the night, startled awake by the aftershock of dark magic only to find Harry's bed empty and Ron imagining the worst. "First I think you've been kidnapped or killed, then I wake up this morning and your clothes, your trunk, your broom … everything is just gone! I think we deserve some kind of explana - hey, the least you can do is look at me when I'm talking! Why do you keep looking up there, anyway?"  
  
         Harry tore his gaze away from the teachers' table, caught staring at the empty seat for perhaps the fifth or sixth time that morning. He chose to answer Ron's first question since he doubted Ron was prepared to hear that Harry was half out of his mind with worry over Severus. "I've been given a room of my own, for my own protection. I can't tell anyone where it is, not even you two. Dumbledore's orders."   
  
         Hermione shoved a roll into her boyfriend's mouth when it looked like Ron was about to explode into an angry rant, then took advantage of his indignant silence to question Harry calmly. "Does this have something to do with that blast of magic that woke everyone up last night?"  
  
         _Well, it does have a little to do with it_ , Harry rationalized as he nodded his head 'yes' in answer to Hermione's question. He was trying desperately hard not to tell too many lies to his friends. They deserved better than that, in his opinion. In fact, he planned on telling them everything - to hell with Dumbledore's condition - once he worked up the courage to confess he was in a relationship with Severus. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite _that_ brave yet. "I still have access to the Gryffindor common room, and I'll do most of my studying there. I'll still spend a lot of time with you guys, it's just that I'll be sleeping somewhere else. Satisfied?" He looked over at Ron hopefully just as his friend swallowed the last of the roll Hermione had used to muffle him.  
  
         "Can't you even give us a hint of where it is? You've never hidden anything like this from us before …"   
  
         Ron's hurt expression tore at Harry's already unstable emotions and he surprisingly felt the sting of tears in his eyes. _Worrying about whether Severus was alive or dead, deceiving his friends_ … much more of this and he'd be on the floor blubbering like a baby. "Sorry, Ron, but I can't … not now, anyway."  
  
         The three friends continued the rest of breakfast in strained silence until Harry got tired of pretending to eat his food and excused himself. He glanced one last time at the teachers' table, caught Aiya's eye and forced a fragile smile for her benefit, then walked out of the Great Hall.   
  
         [I don't suppose you feel like having a lesson today?] his sister's voice drifted into his mind as Harry walked aimlessly down the corridor.  
  
         [It's probably not a good idea,] Harry replied. He didn't want to add to Aiya's worries, but he had been feeling the slow build of dark energy inside of him ever since Severus left. He doubted it was safe for him to be around anyone right now, even his sister, after learning just how dangerous and destructive that magical energy could be.  
  
         [I understand. You should get some rest.] And then she was gone, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.  
  
         He spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon in self-imposed solitude, first hiding out in the restricted section of the library, spending a few hours sleeping in a dark corner that looked like it hadn't been dusted in a few centuries. Then, when Madam Pince evicted him for snoring, he used the void to travel to his newly appointed quarters, deciding that if he was going to be miserable, at least he could be miserable in a place that inspired a feeling of security in him. He hadn't forgotten how Severus's rooms had been his 'someplace safe' on the night Rhys assaulted him, and as soon as he stepped out of the void and into the living area he knew he'd made the right choice.  
  
         He walked into the bedroom, not surprised to see his own things neatly put away in various places around the room. The work of the house-elves, no doubt, since Harry had gone straight to breakfast from Aiya's rooms, not even bothering to go back to the dormitory to shower or change his clothes. He'd simply used his wand to re-size a pair of Aiya's trainers and let his sister drag him off to the Great Hall, but he wanted to take a bath now that he was in a position to wash off the dirt and grime from last night's adventure.   
  
         He tugged his sweatshirt over his head and was just about to take off the dark t-shirt underneath when suddenly a short, bat-eared creature wearing mismatched socks popped into the room in front of him and startled Harry into falling painfully on his ass.  
  
         "Dobby hears it but cannot believe it!" The excitable house-elf practically danced around Harry on the floor. His left sock was electric blue with yellow polka dots and the right one was Christmas-tree green with little monkeys bordering the top. "It is true! It is true!"  
  
         "Whoa, Dobby," Harry said, rubbing his hand over his aching backside as he got to his feet. "What's true?"  
  
         Dobby managed to stand still long enough to say in an awestruck voice, "Harry Potter is one of the Mori."  
  
         "Oh … that …" Harry said awkwardly. "Where did you hear that, Dobby? It's supposed to be a secret."  
  
         Dobby grinned. "Dobby hears it from the other house-elves. Harry Potter is Mori now but mustn't tell. No, mustn't tell anyone."  
  
         "Can house-elves tell a Mori apart from a human?" Harry hadn't realized his secret wasn't all that secret from certain inhabitants of the school.   
  
         "Oh yes, easy to tell," Dobby said, puffing out his little chest in a show of pride. "Mori cousins are very beautiful."  
  
         _He can probably see past the glamour … and maybe the dimming too?_ Harry thought, staring down at Dobby with a frown. He knew Dobby would rather die than say anything to betray Harry, but he found it a little unsettling to know that a house-elf could pick out a Mori so easily.   
  
         "Is that why you came to see me, Dobby?" Harry was keen to take his bath, and as much as he liked Dobby, he really didn't feel up to a visit at the moment.   
  
         Dobby's ears flopped as he shook his head 'no', drawing his tiny little body up as tall as he could as he said importantly, "Dobby is told to find Harry Potter and ask what he wants to eat for supper."  
  
         Harry blinked. "Who told you to ask me that, Dobby?"  
  
         "Professor Snape, sir," Dobby said, not realizing how his answer made Harry's heart skip.   
  
         "He wasn't hurt, was he?" Harry kicked off the borrowed shoes from Aiya and started peeling off his socks as he waited for Dobby's answer. If Severus was back, there was no way Harry was going to let the man see him in his current grimy state.  
  
         Dobby considered the question carefully, then looked up at Harry with his bulging green eyes. "No, no … Dobby doesn't think so."  
  
         Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Severus was back and safe, at least for the moment. He grinned at Dobby. "I don't really care about supper, Dobby. Steak, potatoes … really, anything would be fine."  
  
         The house-elf grinned right back. "Dobby will tell the others." He bowed, then popped out of the room as suddenly as he'd popped into it.  
  
         Harry lost no time in ridding himself of his shirt, jeans and boxers on his way into the bathroom, smirking to himself at the very stark black and white décor of the room. It was as if every room echoed the image Severus projected of himself - the austere professor who was cold and untouchable, secretive and aloof. _I'm going to make this place cozy or die trying_ , Harry thought, feeling a little homesick for his room in the Gryffindor dormitory. Every corner of that room was filled with the personal touches of each boy who slept there, and it had felt as much like home as any place Harry had ever been, aside from his room at Grimmauld Place.   
  
         With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the old-fashioned bathtub with its claw feet and porcelain veneer (so different from the huge marble baths in many of the school's other bathrooms) and turned on the water. It took no time at all for it to fill up and he was soon sinking himself into the hot, steaming bath with a moan of pleasure. For a long time he just soaked in the water and let the tension seep from his muscles, finally able to relax after so many hours of not knowing whether Severus would come home alive or be discovered in a gutter somewhere with the glassy-eyed stare of someone who'd found himself on the wrong end of a Killing Curse.  
  
         He nodded off once or twice, lulled into a forgetful stupor by the gentle lap of water against his skin, but there was always a Mori spirit there to wake him before he could do something stupid like drown himself. Harry knew the peacefulness of the moment couldn't last - it just wasn't his fate to lead a slow-paced, uneventful life - but he milked it for as long as he could, so completely detached from the world around him that he didn't hear the sound of footsteps in the bedroom. Seconds later, however, he felt a sudden wave of energy come crashing down on him from out of nowhere, his magic flaring up in response to some unseen stimulus. There was an answering twitch from his cock and Harry sat straight up in the bath, letting his breath out in a low, needy moan, clutching at the sides of the tub as he leaned forward and shifted his hips, jostling some water onto the floor.  
  
         "Is this trail of clothes meant to lure me into the bathroom?" came the dark, decadent voice of Severus from just outside the half-open door, his tone a mixture of wickedness and humor.   
  
         A second jolt of energy spiked inside of Harry and he had to bite back another moan, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip so viciously that it drew cherry red droplets of blood that trickled down his chin in a thin line.   
  
         "Harry?" Severus's voice sounded concerned now and the door swung fully open, bringing with it a rush of cool air mixed with the heady, earthy scent of patchouli and sandalwood. "Are you alri - "  
  
         Severus froze, rendered speechless by the sight of the aroused, magic-infused morion sitting wet and naked in the water. Harry had lost all his dimming, his skin gleaming white in the clear water, contrasted sharply by the blood-stained crimson of his lips and the blue-black of his hair that clung wetly to his cheeks and forehead. His head lolled to the side, his passion-drugged eyes shifting from deep emerald to feverish aquamarine as he locked gazes with Severus.   
  
         "Someone … cursed you … used Cruciatus." Harry's tongue felt thick in his mouth, making it difficult to force out his words. He didn't know how he could tell one dark spell from another; all he knew was he could practically taste the residual dark magic clinging to Severus, and while his protective instincts told him to find the person who dared to attack his lover and rip the offender's throat out, there was also a part of him that found a darkness-tainted Severus too delectable to resist.  
  
         "Only briefly. The Dark Lord was simply reminding me of why I should not disappoint him," Severus said evenly, continuing to devour Harry with his jet-black eyes. There was no self-pity in his voice, only an emotionless explanation of the facts. He had long ago resigned himself to the inevitable _Crucio_ thrown his way during one of Voldemort's meetings, though admittedly he was one of the fortunate few who did not suffer that particular spell with any regularity.  
  
         "I'm really going to enjoy killing that bastard," Harry growled, his eyes narrowing to two slits of fierce jade. He was a breath away from feral, torn between anger and lust, but his hunger for Severus won out over his hatred for Voldemort and he pushed himself to his feet, water dripping down his lean frame as he reached out and eased the robes off of Severus's shoulders, the first of his clothing to go. As Harry began to unbutton the white shirt Severus was wearing, he nuzzled his lips against his neck, leaving a bright crimson smear on his pale throat like a primitive mark of possession.   
  
         "You taste like … _midnight_ ," he murmured, savoring the flavor of darkness and magic that greeted his tongue, impatiently ripping the rest of Severus's shirt open when the buttons proved too much of a delay in granting Harry access to all that smooth flesh.   
  
         Severus caught Harry's wrists, forcing his hands behind his back and trapping them there with one hand while using the other to tilt Harry's head back so their eyes could meet. "I'm really going to have to teach you some patience," he scolded his impulsive lover before leaning in to lick the blood from Harry's chin, indulging in a hoarse moan before he claimed Harry's lips with a brutal kiss. Harry could taste the strangely sweet tang of his own blood on Severus's tongue, and he realized the faint flavor he'd tasted on Severus's skin was much stronger and richer in Mori blood, a combination of darkness and magic that wizards' spells could imitate but never completely capture. True 'dark magic' existed only in the Mori - anything else was a pale imitation.  
  
         Severus suddenly jerked back from the kiss, panting heavily, his obsidian eyes full of the passion that only Harry ever got to see. He released Harry's hands, nodding his head towards the bath as he ordered huskily, "Get back in the water."  
  
         Harry started to protest but fell silent when Severus began to take off his shoes and socks. Assured that he wasn't being pushed away again, Harry willingly sank back down into the still-steamy bath (a magical benefit that Harry much appreciated), his hand stealing under the water's surface to wrap around his hardening cock as Severus stripped off the last of his clothing. He never tired of watching the play of muscle underneath Severus's pale, near translucent, skin, or the elegant grace imbued in every gesture, every languid movement, of that tall, lithe body.   
  
         Trousers and underwear tossed aside, Severus finally stepped into the bath at the opposite end from Harry, lowering himself into the water with a groan of pleasure that sent a shiver up Harry's spine. He moistened his bruised and bloodied lips with the tip of his tongue, eagerly anticipating even more of those deep, guttural groans.  
  
         "The Dark Lord wants me to recruit you," Severus said as he slid his hands slowly up the calves of Harry's legs, his fingers tightening their grip as they reached the backs of Harry's knees, and with one swift, deft tug of his hands he had scooted Harry a few inches closer, forcing him to use both hands to clutch at the sides of the bathtub to keep from losing his balance.  
  
         "Recruit _me_?" Harry's voice was light and breathy, his pulse hammering away, but he wasn't so far gone with desire that he couldn't appreciate the absurdity of what Severus was saying.  
  
         "Well," the hands had loosened their grip and were now gliding over Harry's thighs, fingertips brushing higher and higher, then pausing to rub sensual circles over his slick skin, "had he actually known it was you, his instructions would have been greatly altered, no doubt. He gave me the special task of discovering the identity of whoever caused that blast of dark magic and … _persuading_ that person to offer his considerable talents where they would be best appreciated. If I was met with resistance, I was instructed to be more … blunt."  
  
         _Hmph … curse him until he caved in, you mean_ , Harry thought, but he had to admit it was pretty funny to think that Voldemort was unknowingly telling Severus to try and convince Harry Potter to become a Death Eater. His soft chuckles died in his throat when he felt Severus grasp his hips and pull him onto his lap, turning him so Harry's back was against Severus's chest, his erection sliding between Harry's twin cheeks as he settled himself, a low moan coursing from his lips. He leaned back against Severus's chest, one of his hands drifting down to clutch at Severus's hip as he rocked his own hips experimentally.  
  
         "You're playing with fire, Potter," Severus hissed against the side of Harry's neck, nipping and sucking at his pearly skin, leaving his own marks of possession, though these marks wouldn't just wash away with soap and water. He wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, the other embracing him possessively across the chest, and his black-velvet voice tickled Harry's ear, "or are you just that eager to be fucked?"  
  
         " _Yes, dammit_ ," Harry growled out, much to Severus's amusement. What was even more humiliating to him was the way his cock had jumped at hearing the word 'fucked' from Severus's lips - the word just seemed ten times as wicked coming from that rich, baritone voice.  
  
         "Impatient as ever," Severus chided him, withdrawing his arms from their imprisoning hold on the younger man's body. Instead of granting Harry's obvious desires, Severus reached over to a small stand beside the bath that held various soaps, shampoos, and bath salts.   
  
         "You really are a sadistic son-of-a-bi - " Harry's angry tirade ended almost as soon as it started as Severus began to lather his body with sweet-scented soap, the gentle massaging of his hands on every part of Harry's body lulling him into a less hostile state. No matter how hard he tried to stay mad at the man, Harry found that Severus's skillful touch coaxed all the ill-will out of his body. "Don't think this is the end … _ohh, right there_ … of this discussion. I'm still … _Mmmm, that's brilliant_ … still mad at you."  
  
         "Of course you are," Severus agreed benignly, thorough in his soapy exploration of Harry's body.    
  
         Harry couldn't do much more than moan and sigh appreciatively over the next half an hour, being thoroughly washed by his lover in a way that made him feel cherished, and then getting the treat of returning the favor, not sure who was enjoying it more as he tended to Severus with the same attention to detail, savoring the way the man's muscles would tense underneath his fingertips with that first, tentative caress before Severus would sigh heavily and relax beneath Harry's touch.  
  
         It wasn't until Harry was rinsing the shampoo from Severus's dark hair that he returned to the topic of Voldemort and the Death Eaters' meeting. "What are you going to tell him when he asks if you've found who you're looking for?"  
  
         Severus leaned his arms on the rim of the tub on either side, bowing his head in silence for a moment before he looked up with a grim smile. "Lie. What else?"  
  
         "Why couldn't he have given a job like that to Lucius? Lucius seems the better candidate for recruiting someone. No offense, Severus, but you aren't exactly what Aiya would call a 'people person.' Lucius is good at kissing arse, from what I've seen. You … not so much."  
  
         "Is that a challenge?" Severus quipped, reaching around to pinch Harry's bottom.  
  
         Harry yelped, then glared at the back of Severus's head. "I didn't mean it literally. Yuck, as if I've actually seen Lucius with his mouth on anyone's arse." Though now that he thought about it, he was sure Severus - with his talented mouth - would be spectacular at kissing any body part.   
  
         "I agree it was a rather unorthodox choice," Severus gave a serious answer to Harry's question. He shared Harry's observation that Lucius would be much better at recruiting new Death Eaters - hell, the man had recruited Severus all those years ago, hadn't he? - but he had his own suspicions as to why Lucius hadn't been given the job. "I think Lucius is the one in charge of finding the Mori, though I can't be sure. It isn't discussed openly anymore. Still, it would make sense for the Dark Lord to leave Lucius free to hunt the Mori and use other Death Eaters to carry out lesser tasks."  
  
         Harry fell silent for a moment, picking out the important things Severus was trying not to say, mainly that with things not being 'discussed openly anymore,' it meant he was gaining less and less information from these meetings with Voldemort, and the risk was beginning to outweigh the rewards.  
  
         "You could stop spying, you know," he finally said, resting his cheek against Severus's back and listening intently to the strong, steady beat of his heart. "I want you to stop."  
  
         Severus gently pulled away, stepping out of the bath and reaching for a towel. Harry leaned back in the tub with a sigh, looking away so Severus wouldn't see his hurt expression. This was going to be a point of contention between them, and one that remained unresolved as long as Severus kept shutting down emotionally whenever Harry brought it up.   
  
         "I think the house-elves will have brought our food by now," he said, acting as if he hadn't heard Harry's heartfelt words. He wrapped the towel around his waist, then bent to kiss Harry's cheek. "Get dried off, put on some clothes and come eat something."  
  
         And Harry knew it was the end of the discussion.  
  
  


  
*     *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         ' _I'm really going to have to teach you some patience._ ' Those had been Severus's words, and it seemed he truly intended to instill that virtue in Harry in whatever way he could.  
  
         Well … patience, Harry soon discovered, was more a pain in the arse than a virtue. He wanted Severus and he wanted him now, and to hell with patience. It was overrated as far as he was concerned, and just because Severus seemed to have it in spades didn't mean he had to keep holding out on Harry when all he wanted to do was have a nice, hard fuck every night instead of all the teasing Severus did. At this rate, he didn't think he was ever going to lose his virginity, and it wasn't like he was saving it for a rainy day.  
  
         _He used to be a Death Eater - I should have known he'd be an expert at all kinds of torture_ , Harry thought as he sat through the end of Potions class the following Monday. All weekend he'd waited for Severus to finally consummate their relationship - they were living together now, after all - but apparently Severus had more self-control than a Buddhist monk because he hadn't done anything more than kiss and fondle Harry during the brief time he'd shared their bed. Most of the time he was still up when Harry went to bed and gone by the time Harry woke up, and Harry was starting to resent Hogwarts itself for being the reason Severus was such a workaholic and too busy to make love to him.  
  
         Yet, he had to admit that sharing a room with Severus had done wonders for his performance in the classroom. He had gone the entire day without destroying anything or accidentally maiming someone, though now that he was at the last class of the day - a class where he was forced to play the ' _you can look but you can't touch_ ' game with Severus - his magic had grown turbulent again and he was forced to find discreet ways of achieving physical contact with his professor without drawing the attention of the other students.  
  
         "Passable, Potter," Severus sneered as he inspected Harry's potion. "I wouldn't have thought it possible, but you seem to have followed my directions correctly this time."  
  
         "Thank you _so_ much, sir," Harry said with thinly-veiled sarcasm, though the look in his eyes said something more along the lines of, _'I want you to throw me down on this desk and have your way with me. Now, do you hear me? Now!_ ' Unfortunately, all he got in return was a cold glare and a twitch of those luscious lips, but as Severus walked away, he rewarded Harry with an oh-so-brief caress of his fingers along Harry's shoulder, just enough contact to disperse some of the dark energy clouding Harry's aura.  
  
         Harry resisted the urge to grin like an idiot after such a small show of affection, and it was a good thing he did because as his gaze followed the retreating back of his professor, he met the icy blue-grey eyes of one Draco Malfoy. Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his gaze flicking over to Severus then back at Harry, but he said nothing and soon was concentrating back on his own potion, leaving Harry to wonder why Draco had been watching him in the first place. How much had he seen? And how much of the hidden innuendo in that short interaction had Draco understood?   
  
         _Stop being so paranoid_ , he told himself, and he soon forgot about it, spending the last few minutes of class bottling up a vial of his potion to be graded, then cleaning up his work area. When Severus finally announced they could leave, Harry took the longest time gathering his things, waving Hermione and Ron off ahead of him while he stayed behind to talk to Severus.  
  
         "Am I still expected for detention tonight?" he asked as everyone left. It was a question he didn't really need to ask. It had been agreed upon over the weekend that Occlumency lessons would be held on the weekends after his lessons with Aiya, since Harry had improved greatly over the past month and didn't need an intensive regimen anymore.  
  
         "I suppose you've been punished enough," Severus replied stonily, but then a glint of humor appeared in his dark eyes and he added softly, "for now."  
  
         Harry clenched his hands into fists, looking to any other person like someone who was trying hard not to punch his teacher in the face, when in reality he was more worried about preventing himself from shoving his hand down Severus's pants.   
  
         "Now run along before I change my mind." Severus turned his back on him, doing a superb job of keeping up appearances, though one would expect no less from someone whose very life depended on his ability to act one way while feeling the complete opposite.  
  
         _I'm having sex tonight or someone is getting cursed_ , was Harry's overriding thought as he stalked out of the classroom and down one of the long, gloomy corridors of the dungeons. He was close to the hallway that led to his rooms with Severus but he didn't want to risk anyone seeing him go through the door, so he decided to just go on up to the Gryffindor common room and start studying. He only got a few steps further after making this decision when he was suddenly grabbed from behind and shoved up against the wall, his eyes widening in surprise and confusion when he saw that it was Draco Malfoy whose hands were pinning him to the stone wall.  
  
         "Malfoy? What the hell do you think you're - "  
  
         "Shut up," Draco snarled, shaking Harry by the shoulders so hard that his head struck the wall with a loud crack, sending a sharp pain through Harry's skull and blurring his vision for a second or two. Harry could hear Aiya calling out to him as if from very far away, probably sensing his distress, but his head hurt so badly that he couldn't bring himself to answer back. Instead, he closed his mind off from her, hoping he would recover soon from the blow to his head and be able to reassure her he was alright. When the world had righted itself for him once more, he saw that Draco was staring at him with absolute hatred.  
  
         "What did you say to her, Potter?" Draco hissed.  
  
         Harry stared at him blankly. _What was Malfoy going on about now?_  
  
         Draco tossed his bag of books to the floor, then whipped out his wand, using one hand to pin Harry against the wall again, this time by the throat, while the other held his wand pointed menacingly in Harry's direction.  
  
         "I want you to tell me," Draco said in a voice so icy and dangerously calm that Harry realized things could get very ugly, even more so when the next words out of Draco's mouth made the situation perfectly clear:  
  
         "I want to know the _exact words_ you used to take Aiya away from me."  


 


	24. A Verbis Ad Verbera

  
       "I want to know the _exact words_ you used to take Aiya away from me."  
  
       "I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Malfoy," Harry choked out, clawing at Draco's hand that was clamped around his throat. He could feel something warm and wet dripping down through his hair and along the nape of his neck, and he realized he was bleeding from that blow to his head. His instincts screamed at him to attack, to use the shadows to shove Draco away and preferably rip him to pieces, but he held back, hoping he could avoid another incident like the one with Rhys by talking his way out of it this time. He could tell he hadn't de-dimmed yet. Draco didn't have a clue that he was messing with a highly dangerous Mori - this was just two rivals duking it out over … well, to Draco's mind, over a girl.  
  
       "Come off it, Potter," Draco said. "You waltz into her rooms whenever you want to, don't you? She says she isn't fucking you, but she'd have to lie about that, wouldn't she - being a teacher and all, it's bad form to shag a student. Then today after class she tells me she can't see me anymore. You must have said something to her."  
  
       _So she really went through with it._ Harry had expected Aiya to delay following Rauko's orders to stop seeing Draco, but here was proof that she'd taken the earliest opportunity to end all association with him outside of the classroom. Harry was at a loss on how to dissuade Draco from his jealous assumptions without blabbing at least one of the many secrets he and Aiya were keeping from most of the school. It was well-known that Harry Potter was an only child, so he couldn't tell Draco that Aiya was his sister without having to explain the Mori adoption, and Draco didn't look like he was going to believe a ' _we're just friends_ ' excuse after seeing how Harry had complete access to Aiya's rooms. No student, even one who was unusually close to his teacher, would be given the freedom to enter his professor's rooms at will like that unless there was something more going on.   
  
       "I can't very well answer you when you've got your bloody hand around my throat," Harry said in a strangled voice, finally managing to push Draco away with some subtle help from his shadows. Draco stumbled back a step or two, his face still flushed with anger, but the cold, calculating glint was back in his eyes as he kept a wary watch on Harry, who was dealing with his own issues as he gingerly touched the back of his head, wincing as his fingers probed for the source of the blood that matted his blue-black hair.  
  
       "I'm not fucking her," Harry finally said, his stomach lurching as his fingertips brushed over a gash on his scalp and another wave of agony rolled through his head. _And here I thought my trips to the hospital wing were a thing of the past_ , he thought ruefully as he fought to hold down the bile rising in his throat. He wiped his blood-stained fingers on his robes and glared at Draco. "Dumbledore gave me access to her rooms. I do have a Dark Lord to vanquish, remember? Who better to prepare me for it than Professor Graham?"  
  
       "Do you think I'm that stupid?" Draco didn't pause to let Harry answer that, still brandishing his wand as he advanced forward until he was back in Harry's face again. "You expect me to believe that you go to her rooms just for _tutoring_?"  
  
       "Why not?" Harry's eyes narrowed to slits of venomous green. "Why do _you_ go to her rooms, Malfoy?"  
  
       The question appeared to startle Draco, his eyes widening fractionally, but otherwise he remained unreadable even to Harry's keen observation. He drew himself up to his full height, an inch or two taller than Harry, and tilted his chin at a haughty angle. "To fuck, of course. Too bad you aren't man enough for her, Potter … she's brilliant in bed."  
  
       _He's lying, he's lying_ , Harry repeated to himself over and over, knowing Draco was only trying to get a rise out of him, but his instincts were starting to get the better of his common sense. He balled his hands into fists, his last few shreds of control preventing him from leaping on Draco and beating him unconscious. Instead, he smiled mockingly at him. "Apparently you aren't man enough either, Malfoy, or she wouldn't have thrown you away after only … what has it been? Not even a month?"  
  
       Draco's right hand twitched and his eyes grew feverishly blue, no longer able to project that aura of detachment and superiority in the face of Harry's well-aimed insult.  
  
       Harry chuckled, taking sadistic delight in his rival's humiliation. "You should stick to your little Slytherin groupies … obviously you don't have what it takes to satisfy a real woman. Or did you even get a chance? I can't see someone like Professor Graham deciding she wanted to be your latest meaningless fu - "  
  
       The swing of Draco's fist caught Harry by surprise, too preoccupied with needling his enemy to notice that Draco had reached his breaking point. His knuckles caught Harry square on his left cheek, the force of the blow knocking him back against the wall again and leaving a new splotch of blood where his head hit the stone. His vision went completely black for an instant as a cacophony of voices rallied inside his mind, the pain in his head so intense that he gave in to his earlier urge and vomited his lunch all over his shoes and the floor. Vaguely, he was aware that Draco was shouting at him. It was distant at first but grew louder as the voices in his head were forced out one by one with each new onslaught of blows to his face and arms and chest.  
  
       " … one good thing to happen to me … only person who understands … she's mine and I won't let … make me sick, you self-righteous …" Draco's voice kept fading in and out of Harry's consciousness, and though the punches that followed that first angry strike were nowhere near as powerful or painful, they were enough to rob Harry of any control over his primal nature. The instinct to protect himself overpowered any rational thought.  
  
       [ _Off_ ,] he told the shadows, unable to form anything more coherent than that, but they understood and obeyed, wrapping around Draco's arms and legs, yanking him off of Harry and tossing him to the floor. Books and quills spilled out onto the stone tile as Draco fell into his own schoolbag, scattering the contents. He clutched at his right side with one hand, wincing at some unknown injury, but for such a violent fall Draco had emerged remarkably unscathed.  
  
       "You really don't want to mess with me, Malfoy," Harry forced out between clenched teeth. The pain in his head was receding as adrenaline and dark energy surged through his body, but he could still feel the slow trickle of blood down the back of his neck from his head wound and more recently from a small tear at the corner of his mouth. Had he been able to see himself, he might have been shocked at how menacing a picture he made: his features were slowly sharpening into that inhuman beauty of the Mori as he lost control of his dimming, but his anger twisted it into something cruel and pitiless, like the mesmerizing allure of a tiger just before it sinks its teeth into the throat of its prey. The blood on his mouth and neck only furthered the impression that this was no longer a mere wizard that Draco was dealing with, but a wild and ferocious creature that had been suddenly freed from its cage.  
  
       "What the hell _are_ you?" Draco's voice now contained a note of fear amidst all that bravado, and it was most likely that sudden terror that drove him to his next unfortunate action: he grabbed his wand from where he'd dropped it and pointed it straight at Harry. " _Crucio_!"  
  
       Harry was prepared this time for the painful and suffocating sensation of being filled to the bursting with all that dark-tainted magic, but what he wasn't prepared for was the infusion of Draco's emotions that accompanied the spell - anger, terror, desperation - Harry felt exactly what Draco had been feeling when he performed the curse. With Aiya, Harry had known it was her magic, had felt Aiya's presence mingled with her magic, but this was different - there hadn't been these intense emotions in her spell. Forcing a deep breath in and out of his lungs, Harry held his magic in check as he looked at Draco, hoping that the other boy couldn't tell what a horrible struggle it was for Harry to control himself.  
  
       "You … you're a Mori," Draco said softly, his eyes wide with wonder as he slowly pushed himself to his feet and began to back away, still clutching his side.  
  
       Harry clenched his hands into fists to hide their trembling. He needed to cast a spell … _impedimenta, petrificus totalus, obliviate_ … anything to either keep Draco from running off or to make him forget everything he'd seen, but he knew that whatever spell he used would be much too strong and he could end up doing serious, lasting damage to his rival, perhaps even kill him. As much as he disliked Draco, he really didn't want to be responsible for his death. Then Draco said something that changed everything …  
  
       "Just like _her_ … you're a Mori just like Aiya." Draco's rain-cloud eyes narrowed in speculation as understanding dawned in his expression.   
  
       "You know about Aiya?" Harry wheezed, still having trouble keeping all that magic contained inside his body. He desperately needed Severus, but he couldn't just let Draco go after such a troubling revelation. He stepped towards Draco but nearly tripped on a book lying in his way. When he went to kick it out of his path, he saw two strange pieces of paper sticking up out of the top, one glossy and white, the other yellowed with a torn and jagged edge. Harry looked more closely at the book and saw that it was Draco's Arithmancy book. Ignoring Draco's imperious order to leave his property alone, Harry picked up the book and opened it.   
  
       The glossy, white paper turned out to be the back side of a photograph, and when Harry turned it over he saw it was the picture of Aiya that Draco had stolen from her album during Harry's first weekend lesson. The other piece of paper looked like it had been torn out of some old spellbook, though the spidery writing on the page looked very familiar to Harry. _Where's Hermione when I need her?_ Harry complained, unable to decipher the language on the page, but then his gaze was drawn to a series of symbols along the bottom of the page and his blood ran cold. _This is … the missing spell from the grimoire in the library_ … His head snapped up, his green eyes fixing on Draco's pale face.  
  
       "What were you planning to do with this, Malfoy?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice as held up the page, tossing the Arithmancy book and Aiya's picture back onto Draco's schoolbag for the time being. Darkness and wild energy roiled and seethed in Harry's veins, his blood burning now as his temper flared out of control.  
  
       "None of your business, Potter," Draco snapped.  
  
       Harry slammed his fist into the wall only centimeters away from Draco's head. "It bloody well _is_ my business! What were you planning? Did you think that since she wouldn't willingly sleep with you that you could use this spell to force yourself on her? Or are you just like your father, wanting a Mori slave?"  
  
       Draco looked completely astounded by what Harry was saying, his cold mask of detachment falling away entirely as he ran the full gamut of emotions from shock to confusion to fear to, surprisingly, disgust. "What are you talking about? I would never - "  
  
       "Don't lie," Harry hissed, and at his unspoken command, the shadows pinned Draco to the wall by the throat in a similar manner to how Draco had pinned Harry.  
  
       A squeak of alarm drew Harry's gaze for a moment, just in time to see a terrified second year girl dart around the corner back in the direction of the Potions classroom. When he looked back at Draco, it was with a smile so vicious that it would have made Rauko proud.  
  
       "How long before someone comes to save you, Malfoy? Long enough for me to claw off that pretty face of yours first?" Harry's fingers flexed and the shadows seemed to mimic his movements, a few of them brushing over Draco's cheeks while the rest were still holding him by the throat.   
  
       Draco flinched away from their touch, his grip tightening on the wand in his hand.   
  
       "Going to curse me again? Go ahead," Harry said quietly, his even tone belying the rage inside. "Give me an excuse to cast the spell I'm itching to cast right now."  
  
       Draco's eyes widened, but for once he showed signs of a true backbone as he met Harry's murderous glare straight-on. Without a second thought, Draco raised his wand and cast a spell, but the words out of his mouth weren't the typical _Crucio_ or any other dark magic, it was a spell Harry had never heard before …  
  
       " _Solis Invictus_!"  
  
       A flash of pure white light grazed Harry's upper left arm. At first he felt nothing, but then a fiery burning sensation spread over his skin where the spell had struck and Harry gasped in pain. It felt as if acid was eating through his arm, melting skin and muscle and flesh. Acting completely on instinct he began to force the dark magic inside his body to his injured arm, successfully impeding the spread of the spell and lessening the pain. When he was assured that his arm wasn't going to fall off, Harry turned his attention back to Draco with a growl, knocking the wand from his hand before taking over for his shadows as he took Draco by the throat and shook him.  
  
       "One less Malfoy in the world … I'll be doing everyone a favor," he muttered hoarsely, reasoning with himself on why killing Draco would be the best course of action. But … he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words, especially with Draco facing him so bravely, as if he'd already decided that dying now wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen to him. Harry's lips parted, the Killing Curse on the tip of his tongue, but at the last minute he swore loudly and punched Draco instead.  
  
       "I should kill you, Malfoy," he yelled as he shoved Draco to the floor then kicked him in the stomach. "Stay away from Aiya! Hasn't your family done enough to her?" The urge to curse Draco into oblivion hadn't faded but worsened as Harry's own frustration at not being able to go through with the ultimate method of protecting his sister only fueled his fury. He leapt on Draco, ignoring the sharp pain in both his head and his arm as he gave in to his instincts and tried to finish with his fists what he couldn't bring himself to do with magic.  
  
         "Swear you'll stay away from her," Harry hissed, curling his fingers into Draco's white-blond hair and yanking harshly when he refused to speak. " _Swear it_!"  
  
         "No," Draco hissed right back, using his body weight to roll them so that Harry landed jarringly on his wounded arm. Had there been anything left in his stomach, Harry would have lost it right then and there. He pushed past the pain and regained the upper hand, forcing Draco back underneath him.  
  
         "What's going on here?" Severus turned the corner just in time to see Harry, just as bruised, battered and bloodied as his rival, pull back his fist in anticipation of another satisfying attack on Draco's purpling face. "Harry, get off of him!"  
  
         Harry growled and stared heatedly up at Severus, caught by a sudden desire to be straddling him instead, and his hesitation as he tried to decide whether he wanted to finish off Draco or jump Severus was all the time Severus needed to grab Harry around the middle and drag him off the groaning wreck of a wizard that was Draco.  
  
         The touch of Severus's hands on his body brought Harry back to his senses, and he went limp in his lover's arms, allowing Severus to prop him up against the wall. It grew easier for him to breathe as the dark energy from Draco's spell was neutralized by that brief physical contact with Severus, but there was still anger, white-hot and consuming, swirling in the depths of his vivid green eyes as he watched Severus help Draco to his feet. With a heavy sigh, Severus flicked his wand and gathered Draco's things back in his bag, levitating the lot of it alongside of him as he supported Draco.  
  
         "Can you walk?" he asked Harry. Harry nodded, pausing only to snatch up his own things as well as the discarded page with the binding spell on it before following Severus down the hall to his rooms. The portrait swung open upon their approach and closed just as quickly behind them once all three of them were inside.  
  
         Severus lowered Draco into the closest armchair, then turned to Harry with a cold stare. "Explain."  
  
         Harry shoved the paper into Severus's hand. "He's a danger to Aiya. I'm not going to let him hurt her."  
  
         Severus scanned the page, his expression darkening to a scowl, and he turned to Draco expectantly. "Why do you have this spell, Draco?"  
  
         Draco had been watching the familiar interaction between Severus and Harry with an increasingly suspicious gaze, though the effect of his skeptical glare was ruined by the rapidly swelling bruise over his right eye. "I don't know what Potter's going on about … it's just a protection spell. It has nothing to do with Ai - I mean, with Professor Graham."  
  
         " _Protection_?" Harry tried to throw himself at Draco again but Severus held him back, forcing Harry into the chair farthest from Draco and trapping him there with a silent spell. Harry settled for giving Draco a harsh shove with the help of his shadows then fell into a resentful silence when Severus glared at him in reproach.   
  
         Severus looked again at the page in his hand, then turned it over, examining the opposite side. A smirk slowly curled his lips and he presented Harry with the piece of paper, now showing him the side he hadn't bothered to look at.  
  
         "He's telling the truth, Harry," Severus said quietly as he let Harry see the spell on the other side of the page. It was an incantation, thankfully written in English, to protect someone from spells of influence like _Imperio_. It would make sense for Draco to have this spell if he was worried that his father might force him to become a Death Eater through magical means, but Harry was stubbornly clinging to old wounds as well as fresh ones as he tossed the paper onto the coffee table. He might believe Draco's story, but he'd never admit it out loud.  
  
         "He could be lying to save himself," Harry said instead. "Either you obliviate his arse or you can let me bash the memory of Aiya right out of his brain. Your choice."  
  
         "I hardly think those are our only options," Severus said in a deadpan voice, though a gleam of amusement softened his flinty gaze for the briefest of moments.  
  
         Draco wiped the blood away from his lips with the sleeve of his robes, his eyes focusing first on Severus then on Harry as he came to his own conclusions about the relationship between his Head of House and his long-time rival. He sneered, his tone spiteful as he said, "Just how many teachers are you fucking, Potter?"  
  
         The insinuation that Draco had seen Harry with a professor other than himself killed the humor in Severus's eyes, but Harry was quick to set things straight, glaring at Draco as he answered the question.  
  
         "Only the one ... or I will be, as soon as you get the hell out of here," he said with another second-hand shove from his shadows that had Draco wincing and clutching his side.  
  
         "Then you're not a Death Eater?" Draco ignored Harry and studied Severus with narrowed eyes. Even Harry could detect a glimmer of hope in that cold, grey gaze, as much as he tried to pretend he didn't.  
  
         Severus looked away, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to decide what to do, but Harry beat him to it. He figured this would be the easiest way to fulfill his promise to Aiya to get Draco to open up to Severus. "No, he isn't. He's a spy. So I guess now you can spill your pathetic little sob story to him like you did to - ouch!" He winced at the very forceful jab to his brain that could only have come from his otherwise sweet-tempered sister, and he meekly opened his mind to her while ignoring the questioning looks from Severus and Draco.  
  
         [Don't you ever do that to me again,] Aiya scolded him, and Harry could feel the fear that lingered in her mind. [What happened?]  
  
         [Draco wasn't too happy that you dumped him.] Harry looked over at Draco, a smile spreading across his face as he drank in the sight of his rival's pale skin mottled blue and black and purple from the myriad of bruises Harry had inflicted on him. Of course, he probably looked even worse than Draco, and a few healing potions would erase most of the visible damage for both of them, but it still gave Harry some satisfaction to see Draco in an unpolished, bedraggled state and know that it was the result of his own handiwork. [We had a _discussion_. Severus is taking care of it, so don't worry.]  
  
         [Show me _all_ of it, Harry,] Aiya said sternly, not satisfied with Harry's extremely watered-down version of events. With a sigh, Harry fully opened his mind to her and showed her the fight from beginning to end. The tense silence in his mind that followed spoke volumes. When Aiya finally did respond to what she'd seen, it was with a firm lecture, [It's not your job to protect me, Harry, especially from Draco. He's not a threat to me, I keep telling you that …] but then came the warm mental hug and her softly spoken, [… but I know why you did it. I love you, too, Little Brother. Tell Draco … I'm sorry.] And then she was gone.  
  
         Harry sighed and rejoined the world outside his mind only to find that Severus was gone and Draco was staring at him with nothing harsher than curiosity. It seemed that most of his hostility had faded once he learned Harry preferred men and no longer posed a threat to Draco's own romantic aspirations. Grudgingly, Harry bit out, "Aiya says she's sorry."  
  
         Draco stared at him blankly, then nodded. He retrieved his wand and began casting healing spells on himself, effortlessly mending the worst of the damage Harry had done to him … a little _too_ effortlessly, as if he'd had plenty of practice treating his own injuries. The bruises remained, and he was obviously still in pain, but he no longer favored his right side and his cuts were healed. He looked up at Harry with emotionless eyes, aloof once more, but when he spoke there was none of the condescension or mockery in his tone that Harry was used to hearing. "You're bleeding on the furniture, and I doubt Severus would like that. Do you want me to …" and he gestured with his wand towards Harry.  
  
         Harry took a deep breath, then shrugged. _Let Malfoy take the trouble if he wants to_ , he reasoned, _since it's his fault I got hurt in the first place_. "Whatever," he grumbled, adding as an afterthought, "and don't call him Severus."  
  
         Draco smirked as he got up from the chair and cautiously approached Harry. "Possessive little Gryffindor, aren't you?"  
  
         "You're one to talk," Harry said with a roll of his eyes.  
  
         Draco paused mid-spell, looking at Harry somberly. "I'm not giving up on her, you know. I want - "   
  
         "More healing, less talking," Harry snapped.   
  
         Scowling, Draco expertly healed the gash on Harry's scalp and the cuts on his face. The bruises would have to wait for when Severus returned with the proper healing potions, as he hadn't had enough on-hand for both Draco and Harry. "You could be a little grateful, Potter. I nicked your arm on purpose back there … I could have done worse if I wanted to."  
  
         "What was that spell you used?" Harry forgot to be angry as he questioned Draco, letting him get close enough to examine the tattered sleeve of his robe where the spell had blasted through. A blistered patch of skin was the only other evidence that Harry had been hit, the worst of it already healed from when Harry had counteracted it with his own dark energy.  
  
         " _Solis Invictus_ … it's a 'light' spell that's supposed to be very deadly to the Mori." Draco whispered something in Latin, then tapped Harry's arm with his wand, covering the raw, red skin with a thin layer of cooling salve that brought immediate relief to Harry's arm.   
  
         "Err … thanks," Harry said reluctantly. _Solis Invictus_ … Harry wondered if that was part of Hermione's notes she'd given him. He really needed to break down and read those through if he wanted to avoid close calls like the one he'd just had with Draco. "Where did you learn about that?"  
  
         "My father." Draco sank back down in his own chair. "He used to tell me about the Mori when I was younger. I always thought they were just bedtime stories. But I knew, as soon as I saw that picture of her … I knew what she was. Everything just fell into place and - " He noticed the way Harry tensed up as the topic turned to Aiya, and Draco huffed impatiently. "Get over it, Potter. Just because you're a Mori like her, I don't see why you're so protective of her."  
  
         "She adopted me into her family," Harry clarified the situation, trying to stand up but finding himself still stuck to the chair by Severus's spell. "She's my sister."  
  
         "Your sister?" Draco's face screwed up in distaste.  
  
         "Yes, and her mum was a Muggle-born," Harry added, willing to say whatever he could to discourage Draco's obsession with Aiya. For a pure-blood who never missed a chance to insult Hermione over her non-magic heritage, knowing that Aiya came from a similar background might be enough to put a damper on Draco's passions.  
  
         Draco swallowed hard as he processed this new information, but Harry had underestimated him as Draco said resolutely, "I don't care."  
  
         " _Sure_ ," Harry said with a roll of his eyes.  
  
         Draco glared at him then looked away.   
  
         _He is being honest, Harry, and you are being unfair_ , a familiar Mori spirit chided him quietly. It was the same spirit who had told him about Aiya and Draco's connection, that childish voice tinged with wisdom, and Harry felt a faint flicker of guilt that he quickly squelched.  
  
         _Hey, he attacked me, remember? Why am I the bad guy?_  
  
         There was the light tickle of laughter in his mind before the spirit answered, _Your problem is you still believe there_ is _a bad guy here. Have you ever considered the possibility that you and Draco could be on the same side?_  
  
         Harry was stumped, but before he could question the spirit further, Severus walked through the door with several vials of potions tucked in a box under his arm. He flashed Harry a wry grin, as if to say, ' _Well, it's good to see you're both still alive_ ,' before all emotion was wiped clean from his expression and he walked further into the room.  
  
         "Drink up," he ordered, freeing Harry from the spell that kept him immobilized and watching patiently as the two students followed his instructions, each of them drinking one of each kind of potion he'd brought with him. Finally, there was only one vial left, but this one Severus handed to Draco.   
  
         Draco uncorked it, but stopped just short of drinking it as he glanced at Harry. Glaring at him, he then turned to Severus and said icily, "I won't take it while Potter's here."  
  
         Harry started to protest but Severus cut him off with a look.   
  
         "Fine," he said. "I'll be studying." He grabbed his things and stalked off into the bedroom, a little irritated when he sensed the magic of silencing charms being placed just outside the door. Severus knew how uneffective they were against a Mori, so why would he use them? For Draco's peace of mind? What was in that vial and why wouldn't Draco take it while he was there? _Must be something they discussed while Aiya had me zoning out_ , Harry thought with a sigh. He glanced down at his bookbag with disinterest, rubbing the back of his neck as he contemplated what he should do first. When he pulled his hand away it was covered in flecks of dried blood, and he decided a bath should be his first priority.  
  
         _Take a bath, do my homework, then_ … a devious smile curved Harry's lips, banishing his bad mood. He had very definite plans for what he wanted to do once Severus was finished with Draco and they had some time to themselves.   
  
         Tonight, there would be no holding back …

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **a verbis ad verbera** \- from words to blows  
>  **solis invictus** \- lit. means 'invincible sun' and can be deadly to the Mori if cast by the right sort of wizard (more info on this spell comes later).


	25. Possession

 

         Hours passed and still no Severus. Harry sharpened his quill for the twelfth time as he glanced first at the door to the sitting room, then down at his half-finished Charms homework, then back at the door, then down at what his hands were doing to make sure he didn't slice open his finger by accident, then back at the door. His quill could pass for a lethal weapon by now but Harry just couldn't concentrate on his studies.   
  
         _What's taking so long?_ Harry sulked, tossing his penknife back into his schoolbag with excessive force. _I should have killed Malfoy when I had the chance._ But he knew that it would take more than a heavy dose of sexual frustration to induce him to kill anyone, even Draco, so he chose to channel his pent-up aggressions into more productive pursuits and pulled the thick binder full of Hermione's notes on the Mori out of his bag.  
  
         There were tons of intriguing facts contained in those first few pages of notes, such as how the dangerous spell Draco had cast on Harry earlier - _Solis Invictus_ \- was the spell of choice for Aurors back in the days when the Mori were being hunted into extinction. He learned that the potency of the spell depended on how much dark magic its caster had been exposed to - in other words, the spell would not be nearly as deadly coming from, say, Voldemort, as it would be coming from Dumbledore. A wizard or witch who rarely cast a dark spell could easily turn _Solis Invictus_ into a 'lightside' version of the killing curse.  
  
         _Good thing for me that Draco's been casting curses for years_ , Harry thought with a smirk.  
  
         Another page listed the few _known_ bloodlines (Evernight, Darkshine, Blackwing, Warsong, Duskwise, and Shadowclaw) as well as the particular traits that appeared in certain bloodlines more than others (Darkshines were more likely to be moon-touched; Shadowclaws tended to feel a closer affinity to other dark creatures and sometimes exhibited marginal control over nocturnal beasts). Evernights, he learned, were of the oldest and most powerful bloodline, but their numbers had been savagely reduced during the massacres.   
  
         There were six full pages on Rauko, and some of the atrocities attributed to the 'demon' leader of the Mori made Harry's stomach turn, but for every crime committed there was a plausible explanation of why it had been necessary for the survival of the species. _Hate to be on his bad side, though,_ Harry thought with a shudder. From what he could decipher, Harry calculated that Rauko had been alive for at least four centuries, if not longer, but Culpepper's research only went back so far. He'd just have to ask the ancient morion himself if Harry wanted a concise answer to the age question ... though Aiya probably knew as well. He decided to move on to a different topic after getting only halfway through a gruesome and graphically-detailed description of how Rauko had been reported to 'kiss' his enemies - _sounds too much like a Dementor_ , was Harry's horrified thought - only Rauko would infect his victim with shadows and then command the entities to tear the wizard apart from the inside.   
  
         "Maybe he mellowed out in the last hundred years or so," Harry muttered as he quickly turned the page, though from what he'd seen of Rauko during their brief meeting, he doubted there was much hope of that being the case.  
  
         Harry had only made it a fourth of the way through the bulky binder when he heard the turn of the doorknob announcing Severus's long-awaited return. He stuffed the notes into the bottom of his schoolbag so he could finish reading them later, trying to look nonchalant from his vantage point on the floor next to the bed as Severus walked into the room and shrugged out of his robes with a weary sigh.  
  
         Harry shoved the bag of books under the bed, then rose up on his knees, leaning his chest against the bed and resting his arms on the coverlet as he hungrily watched Severus unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. When Severus studiously ignored his gaze, Harry took matters into his own hands and initiated a conversation. "What happened with Malfoy?"  
  
         "I interrogated him," Severus said briskly, untucking his shirt from his pants before he sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.   
  
         "And?" Harry eased himself up onto the bed, crawling on all fours over the soft mattress until he was directly behind Severus, "Do you trust him?"  
  
         Severus glanced over his shoulder and cocked a black brow at Harry's sudden nearness, but disappointingly he didn't rise to the bait as he turned back to his feet, sliding off first one shoe then the other, with his socks following close behind. "I'm satisfied that everything he told me was the truth. He is talking with the Headmaster now to decide how to resolve the situation." A tense pause, then, "How long have you known that Draco was meeting with Aiya?"  
  
         Harry sat back on his legs, the color of his eyes fading from passionate aquamarine to a remorseful shade of olive. _Full disclosure_ , he reminded himself, and he confessed quietly, "I've known they were meeting together since the first day of classes - I overheard them talking about it."  
  
         "Did it occur to you that this might be something I should know about?" Severus's frigid tone nearly gave Harry frostbite, and his fiery temper ignited in reaction to Severus's icy demeanor.  
  
         "Let's not start the ' _You should have opened up to me_ ' debate, Severus, because I think you'll lose," Harry snapped. He scrambled back over the bed until he was on the opposite side, tugging off his shirt in one jerky motion and muttering darkly about a certain snarky professor who was lucky to have such a sexy backside to make up for his terrible personality.  
  
         Severus sneaked another glance over his shoulder when he realized Harry had moved away, admiring the smooth, straight lines of Harry's back, the creamy skin flawless except for the fading remains of a bruise just below Harry's left shoulder. Only when Harry began unzipping his jeans did Severus emerge from his unhindered study of his naked back to ask with a puzzled frown, "What are you doing?"  
  
         Harry pushed his jeans down to his ankles, freeing one foot before shaking the other loose and kicking the pile of denim away from him. "I'm getting ready to have sex," he said, boldly looking Severus straight in the eye as crawled back over the bed in nothing but his boxers. "Which leads _me_ to ask why you're still wearing your clothes."  
  
         Severus stared, thunderstruck by the very aggressive, very aroused morion stalking towards him across the mattress. It was made clear by the prominent bulge in his pants that Severus had no problem with seeing Harry half-naked on his hands and knees, but he managed to keep his tone cool and composed as he said, "First, I think we should discuss what happened this afternoon with Draco."  
  
         Harry pressed his chest against Severus's back, trailing his hands over the man's shoulders and down the front of his shirt, his fingers slowly and methodically slipping a button free of its hole then moving lower, taking a torturously long time (for both of them) to unbutton the shirt completely. He sucked on Severus's earlobe before whispering throatily, "Forget him. It happened, it's over - why waste time talking about it?" and he let the dark energy inside him flow through his hands to brush against Severus's bare skin, a wicked grin curving his lips when he heard the hitch in Severus's breathing.   
  
         "Like that, do you?" he murmured cheekily as he eased the shirt off of Severus's shoulders and down his arms, tossing the unwanted clothing onto the floor before wrapping his arms around Severus's waist so he could work on unfastening his pants.  
  
         "It's … tolerable." Severus closed his eyes, striving to maintain his indifference after experiencing the sensation of pure dark magic dancing over his skin.  
  
         _Tolerable?_ Harry took that word as a challenge and proved himself up for the task as he slid one hand into the open vee of Severus's trousers, cupping his fingers around the erection straining against his lover's underwear and sending another jolt of dark energy into his body.   
  
         " _Oh gods_!" Severus choked out, the muscles in his thighs clenching as he rode out that unique pulse of magical pleasure, his hands fisting into the bedspread.   
  
         Harry smirked, pleased with the reaction, but it was a double-edged sword; the more vocal Severus became, the harder Harry got. His mouth sought the pale curve of Severus's throat, biting and sucking, then soothing the aftermath of his ravenous kisses with the gentle lapping of his tongue over the reddened skin. He felt his magic reaching out to Severus of its own accord, establishing a deeper connection between them as Harry's dark energy flowed into and around his lover, meshing with Severus's magic and forming a link between them.   
  
         "The darkness is just as hungry for you as I am," Harry moaned into his ear, but Severus tore away from the embrace at the last minute, jumping to his feet and walking a few steps to the side, resting his hands on his hips as he struggled to catch his breath.  
  
         Harry's face burned with embarrassment. Had he said something wrong? But it really did feel like the dark energy inside of him had the same all-consuming desire to be with Severus as Harry did …   
  
         "Listen," his voice broke and he cleared his throat, scooting to the other side of the bed as he tried again, "Listen, we don't … we don't have to do this tonight. If you don't want to, then I … I understand." But he didn't understand. Why did Severus keep pushing him away? He turned on his side, shivering now that he didn't have the heat of Severus's body warming his skin. He heard the rustle of clothing behind him and assumed that Severus was putting his shirt back on. Squeezing his eyes shut tight against the sting of tears, Harry willed himself not to take it personally, but he felt utterly humiliated. He waited for the quiet click of the door opening and closing to signal that he had truly been abandoned, but it never came. Instead, the bed dipped down under the weight of Severus's body, his pale arm snaking around Harry's waist and pulling him back against his chest as he lay next to him, completely naked now.  
  
         "I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone," Severus reassured him, kissing Harry's shoulder, then his neck, then brushing his lips along Harry's jawline.  
  
         Harry released the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.   
  
         "I want you so much it terrifies me," Severus continued, rolling Harry onto his back as he leaned over him, gazing down at him with a serious, pained expression, his pitch-black eyes feverish with desire while the fingers of his right hand trailed a lazy path down the morion's chest and over his flat stomach. A lecherous grin overtook his lips when his fingertips bumped into the waistband of Harry's boxers, his thumb hooking under the elastic and tugging gently as he joked, "Now who's overdressed?"  
  
         Harry chuckled and lifted his hips to assist in the removal of his last piece of clothing, trying to act as confident and self-assured as Severus, but his heart was beating a mile a minute, his mouth was dry and there was a tremble to his hands that had nothing to do with dark magic and everything to do with the way Severus was now massaging his thighs with long, capable fingers.   
  
         "You're so beautiful," Severus murmured, his rich, decadent voice tinged with wonder as he drank in the sight of the flushed and panting morion laying beneath him, one hand sliding up Harry's thigh to grasp his twitching cock, his smile widening when Harry arched into the touch with a helpless cry, "and so responsive."  
  
         " _Please_ ," was all Harry could say, his eyes glowing a fierce aquamarine in the growing darkness of the room.   
  
         "Please what? Please keep touching you?" Severus drawled with a cruel smile as his hand stilled its slow, teasing strokes, using only his thumb to circle the slippery tip of Harry's penis while the other hand held down Harry's hips when he bucked in response. "Or maybe you want something more?"  
  
         "More … everything … _all of it_ ," Harry's voice rose with each successive word until he was nearly snarling, much to Severus's amusement.   
  
         "I love it when you're fierce like this," Severus said, settling himself between Harry's legs as he bent to replace his thumb with his tongue, tracing circles around the head of Harry's cock, pulling away only long enough to tease darkly, "it makes me want to tame you all the more."  
  
         "You can try," Harry retorted defiantly, but then all words were lost as Severus swallowed him in his hot, wet mouth, putting that clever tongue to good use. Harry was lost in sensation, from the mind-blowing heat surrounding his cock to the tickle of Severus's hair against his thighs. His low moans mingled with the wet sounds of Severus's suckling, and his fingers slid into Severus's thick, dark hair as he urged Severus to take him deeper.  
  
         "Oh gods, that's good," Harry forced out between gasps, pushed again and again to the brink of orgasm, but Severus always seemed to know when Harry was close and he would pull back, neglecting Harry's slick cock as he rubbed soothing circles on his thighs, smiling when Harry begged for a release and only returning to lick and suck at his pulsing shaft once he felt Harry's urgency had passed. Always, his piercing black eyes were fixed on Harry's face, absorbing the way Harry's lips would part in a tortured moan or the way his eyes would make the slow shift from passion-drugged aquamarine to feral jade then back to aquamarine.  
  
         Severus gave one last swipe of his tongue over the tip of Harry's cock, licking away a dribble of salty precum with a throaty hum of gratification, then gently reached up to pull Harry into a sitting position, locking lips with him and moaning against that soft, yielding mouth as Harry passionately kissed him back.  
  
         "Are you sure you want this to happen tonight?" Severus asked seriously after drawing back, his gaze lowering to Harry's swollen lips before flicking back up to those sea-green eyes.  
  
         "Haven't I made that obvious? I want this to happen every night," Harry said with a grin, moving in to steal another kiss before adding mischievously, "and maybe a few mornings, too."  
  
         "You'll be the death of me," Severus groaned, but he didn't sound too upset at the prospect.   
  
         "I hope not." Harry nuzzled his lover's neck, breathing deeply of that earthy, musky scent that was pure Severus. "I plan on having you around for a long time …" … _and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure of it_ , he added silently, his protective instincts roused by the mere idea of losing Severus.  
  
         He complied eagerly when Severus murmured the request for Harry to turn over, laying flat on his stomach while Severus traced his spine with his lips and tongue all the way down Harry's back, his hands stroking Harry's sides then lower, moving to grasp the his hips and draw Harry up onto his knees as he kissed his way over the curve of his bottom. Severus parted Harry's cheeks and licked all around the tight, puckered hole that he would soon be filling with his thick cock, waiting until Harry was wiggling his arse impatiently before he began tonguing him in short, stabbing motions that drove Harry crazy.   
  
         Harry had never felt anything like what Severus was doing to him now; the feel of that warm, wet tongue licking and jabbing at his anus solidified his opinion that Severus had the cleverest tongue of anyone in the world, wizarding or otherwise. Whenever he cried out or begged for more, Severus would moan his reply against Harry's hole, sending pleasurable vibrations straight to Harry's groin, tearing further sounds of pleasure from his lips and starting the whole cycle over again.   
  
         "Don't move," Severus whispered, vacating his position on the bed for several interminable seconds during which Harry tried to recover his breath. Soon, though not soon enough in Harry's opinion, the bed dipped again under Severus's weight and Harry could feel his body heat as he settled in behind Harry. He rubbed something cool and slippery around Harry's anus, thoroughly lubricating the area, then slowly inserted one finger inside, pausing when Harry tensed up automatically.   
  
         "Just relax," he said, easing the finger in farther and working it around until Harry loosened up, making it much easier for him to add a second finger. As those fingers pushed deeper and faster, Harry's heavy pants turned to soft moans, a tremble beginning in his thighs as he completely relaxed under his lover's ministrations. "Such a good boy," Severus praised him with a dark grin, "and here's your reward," he curled his two fingers, rubbing against Harry's prostrate and setting off fireworks in his mind.  
  
         Harry jerked against Severus's hand, too breathless from the pleasure to even cry out, pushing himself up on his elbows as he arched back in an unspoken invitation for more. However, Severus had other ideas, and he withdrew his fingers only to replace them with his well-lubricated cock, teasing Harry's opening with just the tip, laughing when Harry hissed and cursed at him.  
  
         "Will you fuck me already?" Harry growled, unknowingly doing some taunting of his own in the way he pushed that pert arse back against Severus, the man's laughter ending in a needy moan as the head of his penis prodded against Harry's slick hole. With a grunt, he began sliding his cock inch by inch inside of Harry, his legendary self-control put to the test when he discovered just how warm and tight and unbelievably _right_ it felt to finally be inside his lover's body, and he had to grit his teeth against the overwhelming urge to just slam into Harry's quivering flesh again and again and again. Harry knew nothing of Severus's dilemma, and he certainly didn't make it any easier on the man with the way he squirmed and flexed his hips while trying to adjust to the somewhat uncomfortable feeling of being stretched and filled in ways he'd only imagined.  
  
         "Harry, you need to - just _don't move_ and I can - will you _stop_ wiggling your - _fuck_ , forgive me for this - " Severus said hoarsely before he shoved his hard length to the hilt inside Harry's body.  
  
         That plunging thrust tore a sharp cry from Harry's throat. He felt a twinge of pain as Severus fully penetrated him, but it was a pain edged with pleasure, and the underlying thrill of being claimed so thoroughly by Severus overrode any discomfort Harry felt. His harsh pants mingled with Severus's loud groan, a shiver dancing up his spine as he listened to Severus voice his pleasure at burying himself inside Harry's willing body.    
  
         "You're so tight," Severus growled in his ear, and he held his body very still to allow Harry more time to adjust. "Did I hurt you?"  
  
         "N-no ... no, I'm fine," Harry stumbled over his response, amazed he could even speak at all at this point. He could feel every little sensation, from the dull ache Severus's thrust had induced to the warm pressure of Severus's hands where they grasped Harry's slick skin, to the way that thick cock filled him better than any amount of dark magic. He wanted to hear more of that black-velvet voice, to have those low, heated groans fill his ears while Severus fucked him savagely, so he implored him in husky tones, "Don't stop ....  please, _just move_." He emphasized the last two words with a firm push of his arse back against Severus, uncaring that the discomfort remained, wanting only to feel that lithe, lean body surging against his own.  
  
         "Always so impatient," Severus scolded mockingly.  
  
         Harry let out a shaky moan when Severus traced his ear with the tip of his tongue, his entire body trembling in anticipation, but nothing prepared him for the sudden pounding of Severus's flesh into his body, filling him completely, hard and fast and demanding. It was something more than the lust, more than the physical pleasure - Harry actually felt _complete_ now that he and Severus were joined. Something inside just clicked, some important piece of the puzzle at last falling into place, but he didn't dwell on the change for long, too preoccupied with the brilliant way Severus was angling his thrusts to hit that sweet spot inside Harry's body over and over.  
  
         As if sensing he had lost control yet again, Severus slowed his pace, his fingers digging into Harry's hips as he willed himself to be more tender in his lovemaking, but a contained, controlled Severus was not what Harry wanted and he pushed himself up onto his hands to give him the impetus to push back against his lover's next thrust, his voice thick with need as he glanced over his shoulder, "Don't hold back ... _harder_!"  
  
         [So you want it rough, do you?] the thought firmly pressed its way into Harry's mind out of nowhere, and for an instant he was horrified by the fleeting (and preposterous) suspicion that some Mori spirit was spying on him and Severus and getting its kicks from watching the two go at it, but then he realized it was the rich, decadent voice of his lover that echoed in his brain. He had just grasped this shocking realization when Severus rocked forward, setting a furious pace as he gave Harry exactly what he asked for, mercilessly pistoning in and out of his body.  
  
         [ _Gods, he's so tight ... so, Mmmm, so perfect ..._ ] the thoughts continued to be pressed into Harry's head, some of them unspoken endearments, other times just flashes of heat and desire and something deeper that Harry couldn't grasp, but always in that sultry voice that never failed to turn Harry on, and when coupled with the actual rasping words falling from Severus's lips as he fucked Harry into the mattress, Harry's cock grew even harder, to the point of pain. He'd had Severus in his mind once before, but it had been faint, not this vivd, unhindered stream of consciousness. He knew that Severus wasn't aware that his thoughts were being broadcast loud and clear, but Harry knew for damn sure that he wasn't about to put a stop to the glorious pleasure he was feeling just to let Severus know he was giving Harry an earful -- err, mindful -- of his naked, unfiltered emotions.  
  
         This new, deeper connection did have its advantages ... all Harry had to do was wish fervently for Severus to reach around and help Harry along to his orgasm with a few jerks of his cock and the older man was suddenly fisting Harry's penis with one hand while the other continued to grip tightly to his hip. He could hear the harsh panting of Severus's breath in his ear as he molded himself against Harry's back, his thrusts growing erratic as he, too, grew closer to his peak, and as soon as Harry felt the first wave of his climax crash into him, he made his first venture through that fully-established link and whispered into his lover's mind ...  
  
         [ _Now_ , Severus]  
  
         ... and with a guttural groan, Severus came hard into Harry's body, filling him with hot, sticky seed as Harry's name was wrenched from his lips, pumping into Harry several more times until the last of his orgasm was milked from his softening cock. He didn't pull out right away, too busy catching his breath and fondling Harry's own cum-slicked penis as Harry shuddered through the last throes of his own orgasm.  
  
         "That was ... " but Severus had no words, and Harry didn't need them since he could feel everything Severus was feeling. The professor who had always lived closed off from those around him was now an open book to the morion he'd claimed as his own, even if he didn't realize it yet.   
  
         "I agree," was all Harry said in reply, biting back a whimper when Severus did pull out of him. He'd grown quite fond of being filled by his lover and now felt empty without that physical connection. Slowly rolling onto his back, Harry looked up at Severus with a sated and self-satisfied smile, reaching up to wrap his arms around his lover's neck and bring him down for a sensual, unhurried kiss. He wanted to bask in the afterglow of his first time without ruining it with what might be an unwanted revelation on Severus's part, so he raised his barriers just enough that Severus wouldn't pick up on any of Harry's own stray thoughts.  
  
         "So how soon can we do that again?" he murmured against Severus's mouth, nipping gently at his lower lip before leaning his head back against the pillow and grinning up at him cheekily.  
  
         Severus raised a black brow, smirking as he brushed a silky lock of dark hair from Harry's cheek and tucked it behind his pointed ear, then commented dryly, "I never will teach you patience, will I?"  
  
         "Probably not," Harry replied honestly, hooking one leg around Severus's waist while his fingers slid into his sweat-dampened hair, the color of his eyes warring between hazy aquamarine and clear, grassy green, "but you're more than welcome to try." 

 


	26. Confessions

 

         [Time to wake up, Harry …]  
  
         Harry frowned and pulled the covers over his head, resisting the lure of the rich, dark voice that interrupted his sleep.   
  
         [I know you can hear me. Or would you rather have a different sort of wake-up call?]  
  
         The covers were mercilessly yanked away, baring Harry's naked body to the chill of early morning. The heady scent of patchouli and sandalwood assaulted his senses as two warm hands grabbed the backs of his thighs and pushed his legs into the air, forcing his knees back against his chest. Still groggy and blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Harry started to protest the manhandling of his body, still sore from a night of amazing sex, until he felt two slick fingers probing his puckered hole and all sensible thought was banished to the realm of 'unimportant.'   
  
         [Hard for me already?] the decadent voice asked in amusement, followed by moist heat wrapping around the head of Harry's stiffening cock before the lips pulled away with a wet smack. [You just can't wait for me to fuck you, can you?]  
  
         [Severus … ?] Wide awake and panting like he'd just played a brutal round of quidditch, Harry rocked his hips in eager invitation to each rapid pump of Severus's fingers, all the while puzzled by the way Severus was mindspeaking to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.  
  
         [I suppose I shouldn't ask questions I already know the answer to, hmm? Your thoughts are particularly loud when you're aroused …]  
  
         Those two fingers withdrew suddenly, and Harry whimpered at the loss. He looked up at his lover with a mixture of trepidation and lust. He didn't sense any anger from Severus, only the same burning need that raged inside Harry, but he couldn't be sure that Severus wasn't blocking him now. The man was a master of Occlumency, and now that he was aware of their bond he could be limiting Harry's access to his thoughts while maintaining enough of a link to allow for the nonverbal side of their conversation.  
  
         "This new connection we have - when exactly were you going to tell me about it?" Severus nudged just the head of his cock inside of Harry, teasing him with the promise of a repeat of the night's pleasures but refusing to follow through until all his questions were answered.  
  
         [Sadist.] Harry pressed the word forcefully into Severus's mind, a soft moan torn from his lips before he choked out, "Later on, I just - didn't want to - spoil the mood."  
  
         " _Later on_ ," Severus echoed flatly, his hawkish features devoid of expression and his beetle-black eyes peering down at Harry in reproach. His hands stroked up and down the sides of Harry's legs absently, an absolutely random thought flickering through his mind - and, consequently, through Harry's mind as well - about how pleased he was to have such a flexible lover. A rosy blush suffused Harry's cheeks, his embarrassment provoking the first visible emotional response from Severus since their conversation began: a sly, sinful smile that spread across his lips, his voice low and husky as he murmured, "We agreed to full disclosure, Harry. You can't keep something like this from me without punishment," and then, having eased the way with his fingers, he buried himself completely inside of Harry in one hard thrust.  
  
         "Ahh!" Harry's back arched off the bed, his lean frame wracked with a spasm of painful pleasure as his traitorous body eagerly accepted that thrust and begged for more. Harry could tell from the arrogant smirk on Severus's face that he knew exactly how much Harry enjoyed it when he was rough with him.  
  
         [ _Mmmm_ … yes, I know how you want it … but giving you what you want wouldn't be much of a punishment, now would it?] Severus said silently, flaunting his newly rediscovered self-control by keeping perfectly still, sheathed to the hilt inside of Harry whose wanton moans and undulating hips spoke louder than words of his wish for Severus to start moving.   
  
         "Get out of my head," Harry growled. He was frustrated that Severus continued to delve effortlessly into his thoughts while Harry himself grew more and more aware of the reinstated barriers in Severus's mind. What little he could glean from his thoughts were usually involuntary 'slips' (like the comment on Harry's agility in bed) or snatches of raw lust; otherwise, he had to be content with the few times that Severus would press his velvety voice into Harry's mind unsolicited. Childishly (and hypocritically considering his actions the previous night) Harry decided that if the connection couldn't be equal, he didn't want it.   
  
         [If you would just _concentrate_ ,] Severus punctuated the word with a short, quick thrust into Harry's tender flesh, forcing another cry from his lips, [you could block me as easily as I block you.]  
  
         "Let me shove _my_ cock up _your_ arse and let's see how well _you_ concentrate," Harry snarled.  
  
         Severus chuckled darkly, setting a slow, torturous pace as he rocked gently against the dewy body beneath him. He ignored every twitch of Harry's hips, every hiss of frustrated desire, as he 'punished' Harry with this tender lovemaking, bringing Harry to the brink of orgasm but then slowing to a standstill, marking Harry's pearlescent skin with possessive kisses and waiting for the moment of urgency to pass before he would renew his languid thrusts.  
  
         He smacked Harry's hand away when Harry tried to reach for his own neglected erection, glaring at him. "No touching."  
  
         "Please, just let me cum," Harry moaned, his eyes dilated to the point that only a thin ring of shimmering blue-green circled the large black pupils, his voice hoarse and thick with need as he begged for a release.  
  
         Severus brushed his thumb over the glistening tip of Harry's penis, coating it with Harry's precum, then brought the thumb to his lips and licked it clean with a pleased sigh. His eyes narrowed hungrily as he drank in the sight of how each thrust into Harry's tight hole would convey an answering twitch in Harry's cock.  
  
         "Have you learned your lesson?" Severus couldn't help the harsh note that crept into his voice when he questioned Harry; this kind of torture worked both ways, after all, and his control wasn't limitless, especially with his cock surrounded by such delicious heat and Harry's inner muscles contracting around him with every desperate moan that escaped his lips.   
  
         [Yes, yes, just _make me cum_ ,] Harry pressed the plea urgently into his lover's mind, too far gone by now to trust his voice to work properly.  
  
         [Why do I get the feeling you're only telling me what I want to hear?] Severus asked icily, but in the end it didn't seem like he cared much whether Harry was sincere or not as he began a series of brutal thrusts that sent Harry over the edge in no time, Severus following close behind as he emptied himself into Harry with a strangled groan.   
  
         It wasn't until after he'd licked away the come that had spattered Harry's stomach from his own release that Severus slipped the final barrier back in place in his mind and rolled away.   
  
         _So much for enjoying our deeper connection_ , Harry thought wryly, wincing as he pushed himself into an upright position. His bottom was definitely sore now, but he didn't regret anything. He was only curious to know just what had brought on this early morning punishment. "How did you know I could hear your thoughts? You didn't seem to notice last night …"  
  
         Severus paused halfway to the bathroom, a mocking smile on his face. "You talk in your sleep."  
  
         "I do?" Harry blinked. Ron had never mentioned that before, nor any of the other Gryffindors he'd roomed with since coming to Hogwarts.  
  
         "Not like that," Severus said with a smirk, lowering his barriers long enough to explain, [Like this,] before he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Harry alone in the bedroom to contemplate just what sort of embarrassing confessions he'd been pressing into Severus's head during those few hours of contented slumber.  
  


  
*     *     *     *     *  


  
         Though autumn was already well underway at Hogwarts, the weather had turned unseasonably warm and now the students were spending their late afternoons studying in the courtyards or gathered out on the grassy lawn where they could counteract the headaches of homework with the pleasures of a sunny, blue-sky day.   
  
         Harry sat in a group of mostly Gryffindors - Ron, Hermione, Dean, Ginny, and Neville - with Luna Lovegood, who had been decidedly chummy with Neville lately, joining them as the lone Ravenclaw. The three couples were spread out over the grass in cozy pairs, basking in the bright sunshine, while Harry kept to the shade of a large oak tree, batting away the occasional brown, withered leaf that drifted down on him from its thick, far-reaching branches. He felt a little strange being the only one there without a partner, but his friends never once neglected to include him in their conversations or share a laugh with him, so he soon shook off his discomfort.  
  
         It was discomfort of another sort that truly troubled him, and he might have gone to Madam Pomfrey for a potion if he hadn't been too worried that she would demand to know why he needed it. ' _I have a sore bottom from being shagged senseless by my Potions professor_ ,' wasn't something he wanted to admit to the school nurse, so he suffered in silence, fidgeting in his seat through every class and resolving to ask Severus for a potion once he was back in their rooms that evening.  
  
         He thought he was putting up a pretty good front with his friends, acting as normal as he could, and so far no one had said anything. Hermione, for once, seemed oblivious to any change in her friend's status … but he'd caught Ron glancing at him curiously from time to time, a probing look in his blue eyes as he glanced off Harry's notes in Transfiguration or helped Harry practice silent disarming spells in Defense Against the Dark Arts, so it was only a little surprising when Ron gave up his spot in the sun next to Hermione to settle down at Harry's side under the oak tree.  
  
         "Something's different about you," Ron said, his long legs sprawled out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, his hands clasped behind his head, giving him the look of someone just kicking back to relax and belying the seriousness of his expression.   
  
         Harry looked up, giving Ron what he hoped was an innocent grin. "What's that?"  
  
         Ron leaned in closer, blue eyes narrowing in speculation. "I can't put my finger on it … you just seem so … _happy_."  
  
         Harry laughed. "What's so strange about that?"  
  
         Ron frowned and shook his head, apparently frustrated with his inability to clearly explain himself. "No, no … I don't mean it like that, it's just - " he paused, his attention caught as he suddenly pushed aside the collar of Harry's shirt to reveal a reddish-purple bruise marring the pale skin of his neck, " - is that what I think it is? Harry, when did you - " another pause and an almost cartoonish widening of those sparkling blue eyes as everything added up in Ron's mind and he screeched, " - bloody hell! You had se- "  
  
         Harry clapped one hand over his friend's mouth before Ron could announce it to everybody. "Are you insane? Keep it down!"  
  
         Ron pushed his hand away angrily. "So that's why you've been so obnoxiously happy! Why didn't you say something earlier? This is big, Harry … I told you when Hermione and I … well, _did it_ ," he added the last part in a horrible stage whisper, drawing the attention of his girlfriend with his theatrics.   
  
         "What are you two going on about?" Hermione asked suspiciously.  
  
         "Err … this article in the Quibbler," Harry said quickly before Ron could do any more damage. Luna had hand-delivered his copy of the zany magazine but he hadn't really had a chance to look it over. He pointed at a random article, the headline reading, _Ghostly Vandal Wreaks Havoc on Hogsmeade Landmark_.  
  
         Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste and turned back to her Ancient Runes textbook. Her views on the Quibbler were well-known in their circle, and though she and Luna had come to an understanding about their wildly different viewpoints, Hermione still held a measure of disdain for the bizarre stories contained in the Quibbler.  
  
         _Hmm, maybe I should read that later_ , Harry thought to himself about the article, but then Ron was tugging at his sleeve and he dragged his attention away from the Quibbler.  
  
         "So … who was it?" Ron scooted closer, lowering his voice without the dramatics this time as he persisted in his interrogation. "Someone in our year?"  
  
         "No," Harry said hesitantly, "he's not a seventh year …"  
  
         "Younger man, eh?" Ron grinned, elbowing his friend in the side while waggling his eyebrows suggestively. It never ceased to amaze Harry how well Ron had adapted to his best friend being gay, but now he was wishing Ron was a little less open to discussing Harry's sex life.  
  
         "No, not exactly," Harry muttered.  
  
         For a moment, Ron looked completely baffled, but then he laughed and slapped Harry on the back. "Oh, so he's like Hermione? Born after the cut-off mark and all that? She's always complaining how she had to wait an extra year to get into Hogwarts."  
  
         Harry realized his friend wasn't going to rest until he'd learned everything he could about this mystery boyfriend, but was he ready to deal with the consequences of telling Ron the truth? Ron hated Severus. Could he accept him as Harry's lover? Or would Harry have to choose between his best friend and his boyfriend? _This is a trial-run for when I have to tell Sirius_ , Harry thought sourly, and gathering all his courage while he could, he shoved his things into his schoolbag, stood up, and grabbed Ron's arm to haul him to his feet as well.  
  
         "Where are you going?" Ginny asked, speaking for the rest of the group as they all stared wide-eyed at the fierce determination on Harry's face as he started to drag Ron away.  
  
         "Just over to the Quidditch field to iron out some new plays," Harry called back over his shoulder.  
  
         "Shouldn't I come too, then?" he could hear Ginny ask plaintively, but he didn't stick around to debate with her over why her presence wasn't needed or wanted at this point in time. No doubt Dean would distract her from pouting over it too much.  
  
         "You do realize we're going to have to actually come up with some new plays now," Ron mocked his friend's hasty excuse with a cheerful grin once they were out of earshot.  
  
         "If we have to play a match on a day like this, we'll need some," Harry said gloomily. Leaving the shade and venturing out into the sun drained him of energy, making him feel like he was wading through a hot, muddy bog, sweat breaking out on his forehead after the first few steps. _Maybe the Dragon's Tears is wearing off_ , he thought, though he was sure he should still have a few more weeks of sun-resistance left according to Severus. "I don't think I could fly straight with the sun beating down on me like this."  
  
         Ron nodded grimly, watching Harry with a worried frown. Harry was panting heavily and tugging at the collar of his shirt as each gasping breath became a struggle for him. They'd all abandoned their robes the minute classes ended, so at least there wasn't that extra layer of clothing to add to Harry's misery, but the shirt he wore was stained with sweat under the arms and down the back, and he was starting to scratch at his arms and his neck, as if even his skin had grown too unbearably hot for him to endure much longer.  
  
         They made it to the Quidditch field just in time for Harry to sink down in the shadows cast by the tall bleachers, his eyes closing in relief as the tightness in his chest disappeared and the overwhelming heat subsided, leaving only an odd, dull ache in his abdomen. With his back against one of the posts that supported the stands, he took a few minutes to rest and catch his breath.  
  
         "Want me to go find Aiya?" Ron asked gently, crouching down beside his friend and brushing the sweaty fringe away from Harry's forehead.   
  
         "No, I'm fine," Harry reassured him, mustering a weak grin. The last thing he wanted was Aiya fussing over him. He stared up at the sun glinting off the goal posts, breathing in the smell of grass and magic and fresh air, and he felt a pang of nostalgia as he realized he wouldn't be coming back to this place again next year. This was it - their final year - and his future was even more uncertain now than it had been during the summer. Could he even stay in the wizarding world as a Mori? He definitely couldn't be an Auror, like he'd hoped to be …  
  
         Ron, sensing Harry's darkening mood, plopped down beside him and delved right back into their previous topic in hopes to bring a smile back to his friend's face, not knowing that it was a topic Harry dreaded to discuss. "So, are you going to tell me who it is now that we're alone? Hermione thinks you'll go for a Hufflepuff - don't ask me why - but I think you'd be better with a Ravenclaw."  
  
         Harry forced a nervous chuckle, asking quietly, "What, you don't think I could fancy a Slytherin?"  
  
         "Maybe if you were drugged up on love potions, sure," Ron said dismissively, laughing, but one look at Harry's pale, pinched face wiped the sarcastic smile off his lips. "Oh hell, Harry … really? A Slytherin? Not that there's anything wrong with … I guess there are a few who aren't … come on, Harry, _really_?" There was no way for Ron to disguise the disbelief in his voice. 

         "Forget it," Harry said peevishly, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping against the wooden post. He knew Ron was trying to be supportive - in fact, he was surprised Ron wasn't asking him if he'd lost his mind - but if this was how he reacted just to the fact that it was a Slytherin, how was he going to take it when he learned who that Slytherin was?   
  
         Ron sighed. "Look, mate, I'm sorry … I mean, you can't help who you like. Look at me and Hermione. She's bossy and judgmental and drives me right up the wall most of the time … but I love her anyway, faults and all. Love is … _complicated_. I get that, okay? So if you fancy a Slytherin, well, I guess I'll just have to learn to deal with it."   
  
         "You don't even know who it is yet," Harry said, though Ron's words did help to clear away some of the dark clouds hanging over his head. He even felt a little guilty about how worried he was that this would break up their friendship. It was like he didn't trust Ron to be there for him when it really counted.  
  
         "I don't care. Though please don't tell me it's Crabbe or Goyle, or I will march you to Madame Pomfrey myself. No way you would let either one of those goons touch you without a belly-full of _Amortentia_ behind it." He shuddered in disgust at the thought.  
  
         Harry grinned, glad to hear Ron joking about it and not clinging to his prejudices. "It's no one in our year, remember?"  
  
         "Which rules out Malfoy," Ron said quickly, as if he wanted vocal confirmation of the fact.   
  
         "I'd sooner have a threesome with Goyle and Crabbe," Harry assured him with a grin.   
  
         " _Yuck_! Don't go putting images like that in my head, Harry!" Ron protested, covering his eyes with his hands and groaning. The two sat in silence for several peaceful, cheerful moments before Ron said suddenly, "Honestly, I thought for sure you were going to end up with that beater from Ravenclaw."  
  
         Harry blinked. "Rhys?"  
  
         "Rhys, is it?" Ron said slyly, but then his smile faded and he shrugged. "Hermione says he comes to watch our practices, and it's not like he left you in any doubt of how much he likes you after …"  
  
         "… after he assaulted me in a dark, secluded hallway?" Harry sighed. He hadn't realized Rhys had been spying on their practice sessions. He hoped Severus didn't find out or he'd have a tough time convincing the possessive man to let him out of his sight. He'd already heard the rumors that Rhys suffered greatly during sixth-year Potions due to Severus's lingering dislike for him. "He does seem like my type, I suppose … good-looking, intelligent, hell of a Quidditch player …"  
  
         "If that was really your type, you'd just fall in love with me," Ron said with mock arrogance, a teasing glint in his laughing blue eyes.  
  
         "Why bother? You're already hopelessly in love with yourself," Harry said with a roll of his eyes.   
  
         Ron playfully punched his arm. "Hey, I'd be quite a catch if I wasn't already taken."  
  
         "And if you didn't prefer girls," Harry added dryly.  
  
         "Err, yeah, there's that too."  
  
         The two settled into a comfortable silence, one friend gathering the courage to spill his secret while the other waited patiently to hear it. Fluffy white clouds,marched their way across the bright blue sky and covered the sun for a brief time, casting the entire field into temporary shadow and boosting Harry's energy. His thoughts cleared, and before he knew it words were tumbling out of his mouth like raindrops from a sudden spring shower.   
  
         "He's not in our year because he's not a student at all. He's a professor." He ignored the sudden stiffening of Ron's posture and rambled on. Once he'd started this outpouring of closely-kept secrets, it was hard to stop. "There are so many reasons why we shouldn't be together - we used to hate each other, for one, and of course there's the whole 'teacher and student' thing, and then there's the fact that he could get killed if certain people found out about us - but somehow none of that matters when I'm with him. He can be a nasty git, sure, but there's so much more to him than that … and I really think I'm falling in love with him." It was strange to admit it, even to himself, but Harry couldn't believe that what he felt was anything less than true, crazy, complicated love. He took a deep shaky breath, and in that instant the clouds passed on and the world was flooded with sunshine, encroaching once more on the small section of shade that Harry and Ron were sheltered in, and all Harry's courage seemed to evaporate along with the shadows. He risked a glance at his friend, but Ron was looking away from him and Harry couldn't see his expression.  
  
         " _Say something_ ," he said, finally breaking the tense silence. He hadn't mentioned a name, but what other professor did he have a tempestuous history with who was also a Slytherin and risked his life just by associating with Harry? Ron surely knew exactly who he was referring to …  
  
         Ron ripped up a handful of grass, then let the breeze scatter the thin green blades from his hand to dance about in the air before they fell gracefully to the ground. His shoulders were hunched forward, his body rigid, but his voice was unusually soft as he obliged his friend's desperate request and said, "It's Snape, then?"  
  
         "Yes." Harry wiped his sweaty palms nervously on his jeans. No explosive outburst - that was good. And Ron was still conscious. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he'd imagined it to be. Still, his friend's eerie silence worried him. "Is that all you're going to say? At least tell me what you think."  
  
         Ron slowly pushed himself to his feet, gazing out over the pitch with somber blue eyes.   
  
         "I think," he began, then paused, swallowing convulsively against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His gaze hardened, his hands curling into fists. When he spoke next, finishing his broken thought, there was a venom in his voice that Harry rarely heard from the laid-back, good-natured Gryffindor.  
  
         "I think I'm going to have to kill him."  


 


	27. Of Hallways and Broom Closets

 

         "I think I'm going to have to kill him."  
  
         Harry had expected a lot of shouting and arm-waving and four-letter expletives when he finally told his best friend about his relationship with their Potions professor, but nothing had prepared him for the dangerously calm way that Ron spoke about killing Severus. Instantly, he was at war with himself - his Mori instincts urged him to protect his lover from this unexpected threat by whatever means necessary, and it was only his love for his friend and his disbelief that Ron would actually go through with such a threat that kept him rational enough to talk things out.  
  
         "You don't mean that," Harry said,  struggling to his feet. He was still weak from his trek through the merciless sunshine, but he ignored the wobble in his walk as he took a few steps towards Ron who was pacing out beyond the shadows cast by the tall bleachers. Harry stopped at the edge of that boundary between shadow and sunshine, an invisible barrier between himself and his friend.  
  
         "How did he do it? A potion? Some spell? I'd guess it was _Imperio_ if I didn't know you were immune to that now …"  
  
         Harry, frowning in puzzlement, inched closer to the sunny side of the pitch. "How did he do what?"  
  
         "Brainwash you." Ron stopped his frantic pacing and turned to face Harry, his hands latching onto Harry's shoulders as he stared hard into his eyes. "That _Amortentia_ in your glass … maybe that was him? Who else would have the skill to make that stuff? And only someone like Malfoy would have the money to buy it off some other wizard, so it must have been Snape …"  
  
         "Ron, he hasn't brainwashed me," Harry said, his voice thick with exasperation. Really, where did Ron come up with these conspiracy theories anyway?  
  
         "Well, you wouldn't _know_ you were being brainwashed, now would you?" Ron asked crossly. Then his expression softened, his grip on Harry's shoulders easing slightly as he said in a quiet, sorrowful voice, "Oh Merlin, Harry, and you _slept_ with him."  
  
         The way Ron spoke made it seem like Harry had been tricked into doing something dirty and shameful, the disgust and pity showing plain on Ron's freckled face, but Harry refused to let his friend tarnish the memory of that amazing first night with Severus and turn it into something hateful and ugly. "I'm telling you, Ron, it wasn't like that. I _wanted_ to have sex with him."  
  
         Ron scoffed at that and shook Harry by the shoulders, trying to snap Harry out of his romantic delusions. "What do you think love potions do, Harry? This is a man you've hated for years, and suddenly you're jumping into bed with him? And you think you _love_ him?" He released Harry's shoulders only to cup his friend's face in his hands, still being gentle with Harry in spite of his anger. "This was _rape_ , Harry, pure and simple. And I don't care if they lock me away in Azkaban forever, I'm not going to let him get away with it."  
  
         Harry pulled away from the hands meant to comfort him, tired of being treated like a victim. "Ron, you aren't listening to a word I'm - "  
  
         And true enough, Ron didn't even wait to let his friend get another word in as he continued to ramble bitterly about the intended fate of a certain snarky Potions professor. "And if I don't get him, Sirius is sure to finish the job … he's already a wanted criminal anyway, it's not like he has a reputation to uphold … "  
  
         " - do you hear yourself? You think I want either of you committing _murder_ for my sake? Especially when Severus didn't - "  
  
         "I bet even Remus would want in on that one. He can be pretty vicious if you catch him on the right day …"  
  
         " - would you just shut up and give me a second to explain? And don't you dare breathe a word of this to either Sirius or Remus, or I will seriously kick your - "  
  
         "And Dumbledore! To think he trusted Snape all this time. You really should go to him, Harry, and let him know - "  
  
         "He already knows!" Harry shouted, giving Ron a harsh shove that sent him stumbling back several steps, fully dividing them once more with Harry remaining in shadow and Ron standing wide-eyed and speechless in the sunlight. Harry firmly put the lid back on his frustrated temper and lowered his voice to a calmer tone, but he couldn't help the resentment underlying his words as he added, "And as long as Severus keeps spying, I doubt Dumbledore gives a damn what goes on behind closed doors."  
  
         Ron's mouth stayed comically agape even after Harry fell silent, his voice coming out high and squeaky when he finally did try to speak, forcing him to cough and clear his throat before beginning again. "Dumbledore … _knows_? About you and Snape?"  
  
         "He doesn't seem to disapprove, either, except he doesn't want us to get 'distracted,' whatever the hell that means. Like it would be such a bad thing for me to get distracted from my life every once in a while …" Harry realized he was backsliding into whining and self-pity, and he firmly steered himself back on track. This wasn't the time to complain; he needed to take advantage of Ron's shell-shocked state to convince him that Severus wasn't some disgusting pervert slipping love potions into Harry's drinks just so he could screw him.  
  
         "This isn't just about sex, Ron. What Severus and I have, it's much deeper than that. The Mori have a term for it … they call it _maranwe_ , which is like - "  
  
         "Like soulmates," Ron interrupted, emerging from his stupor.  
  
         "Err … yeah, how'd you know?"  
  
         "Are you kidding? Hermione is obsessed with this stuff ever since she learned there was such a thing as a Mori. I bet she has enough research collected to write her own book on the subject. Sometimes I can't get her to shut up about it, and _maranwe_ was one of the things she talked about. She kept going on and on about how romantic it was … fate and true love and blah blah blah," Ron tried to make a joke of it, but his smile was strained, hiding a horrified expression beneath it. "You're telling me you and Snape are … are this _maranwe_ thing? What kind of sick destiny is that?"  
  
         "Is it really so bad?" Harry reached out and tugged Ron back into the shade so he could look at his friend without squinting into the sun. All that light was really starting to irritate him, even more so than usual, and the few seconds that the sunlight touched his skin while he grasped Ron's wrist sent a burning tingle up his arm, an unpleasant sensation that lingered in the fading scar on his upper arm from when Draco had cast _Solis Invictus_ on him during their fight. _Definitely need to get more of that Dragon's Tears_ , he thought, then pressed on in his crusade to win Ron's approval.  
  
         "Listen, aside from him being a bastard to us in class … and trying to get us expelled every now and then … and nearly getting Sirius kissed by the Dementors …"  Harry paused with a frown, well aware that he was doing more damage than good this way. He promptly changed tactics. "He's saved my life, remember? Whatever bad qualities he has, his work as a spy more than makes up for it, don't you think? And much as I hate to play the Dumbledore card, the Headmaster really does trust him, which is basically the highest seal of approval a wizard can get around here. I'm not asking you to like him, but it would mean a lot to me if you'd accept him."  
  
         Ron sighed, plopping back down on the grass and burying his head in his hands. Harry took it as a good sign that there had been no immediate negative response, and he tentatively sat down across from Ron as he waited for an answer.  
  
         "He hasn't hurt you?" Ron asked, but it was muffled by his hands, so Harry had to ask him to repeat it before he fully understood the mumbled question.  
  
         "No …" Harry thought back to some rather pleasurably painful moments and blushed, adding reluctantly, "Well, not in a _bad_ way."  
  
         "Ugh, and none of that kind of information, please," Ron said with a groan, finally raising his head, a similar blush on his own cheeks for far different reasons. "I really don't want to hear about how kinky Snape is in bed."  
  
         "Who said I was referring to sex?" Harry asked defensively, but he suddenly avoided looking at Ron's face, his cheeks growing redder by the second.  
  
         Ron chuckled, a note of resignation weighing down the otherwise cheerful sound, and he leaned forward to clasp his hands lightly on Harry's shoulders once more, this time in a gesture of camaraderie rather than part of an effort to shake some sense into him. "I can't say that I like the idea of you and Snape together, but I can live with it as long as you're happy. But if he slips up and starts making you miserable," a definite darkening of those blue eyes as Ron's tone turned serious, "I'm going to hit him with every curse I know."  
  
         "Which is what? Two curses? Three?" Harry teased, turning his grassy-green gaze back to Ron, who played his part and looked suitably offended by this poor estimate of his magical prowess.  
  
         "You're talking to a guy whose girlfriend is a walking encyclopedia of spells," Ron said with a wry grin. "I know more curses than the average wizard, whether I want to or not." He let his hands drop to his sides, unable to maintain that carefree attitude for long as his expression turned serious. "So you and Snape, huh? Never would have seen that coming in a million years. You don't have any other deep, dark secrets you need to let out, do you?" The fragile smile tugging at the corners of his mouth disappeared quickly when Ron saw how Harry fidgeted. "You mean there's more? What else could there possibly be?"  
  
         "Just the matter of my current living arrangements," Harry said after a drawn-out pause, and he proceeded to explain the events leading up to his relocation from the dormitory to the dungeons, growing livelier by the minute as the afternoon sun began its descent into evening and the sun-sickness he'd been suffering from ran its natural course. Ron was especially intrigued by Rauko, and he and Harry were so intent on debating whether the Mori leader was concocting some diabolical scheme with Harry at its center that they didn't notice the third member of their conversation until a voice interrupted them.  
  
         "You're starting to glow, Harry."  
  
         Both boys looked up to see Hermione leaning against one of the posts supporting the stands, her books clutched against her chest and an indulgent smile on her lips. Harry looked down at his hands and, sure enough, his skin was beginning to take on a faint silvery sheen as the sun sank below the horizon.  
  
         "Damn!" Harry scrambled to his feet, snatching up his schoolbag as he shot Ron a look of annoyance. "Why didn't you say anything?"  
  
         Ron rolled his eyes, then answered with a mocking grin. "Hey, don't blame me! You've been glowing all day, in one way or another …"  
  
         Harry froze, then blushed as Ron's meaning set in, and he lingered long enough to give his friend an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder and a murmured, "Thanks." He breezed past Hermione with a similarly grateful look, getting only a few feet down the pitch before he turned and called back to her, "I can't do it right now, but I've got something I need to tell you, Hermione!"  
  
         She grinned and waved him on. "Just get going, Harry. I'll pry it out of Ron, like always …"  
  
         He wondered if that would be such a good idea - Ron may have grudgingly come to terms with the situation, but that didn't mean he'd be a good candidate for breaking the news to anyone else - but he didn't have the luxury of spilling his secrets to Hermione on his own terms as he ran for the shelter of the school. It felt wrong - primally, intrinsically wrong - to be putting a barrier between himself and the twilight like this, his instincts urging him to bask a little longer under the darkening sky while his common sense told him to get his arse back inside before anyone saw him in his moon-touched state, and this continuous sensation of being pulled in two directions was starting to give him a headache.  
  
         He skidded to a stop just inside the main doors, crouching in a shadowy corner to catch his breath. _That was close_ , he thought. Thankfully, most of the students were already on their way to the Great Hall for the evening meal, so he hadn't had to dodge too many late stragglers who, like Harry and his friends, had waited until the very last minute before returning inside after such a gorgeous afternoon in the fresh air.  
  
         After a few minutes rest, he started to walk down the long hallway, only to find that several shadows still clung to his arms and legs, a few hovering around his waist. He shooed most of them away as he walked, ignoring the mournful way they drifted off as he dismissed them. He had rid himself of all of them but one, a particularly stubborn shadow that had wrapped itself around his pants at the ankle and paid no attention to Harry's insistent whispers of 'get off' and 'shoo,' until Harry grew so exasperated that he started to shake his leg to remove the offending entity, like someone trying to shake off an overly aggressive dog.  
  
         "Come on, I don't have time for this," Harry complained just as he turned the corner, and he paused again to jiggle his leg, relieved to see the shadow loosen its grip and slither up the wall to sulk in a cobweb-filled corner of the ceiling. Heaving a sigh of satisfaction, Harry turned his attention back to where he was going and was greeted with the unfortunate sight of a group of young girls walking towards him from a few feet away, staring at him with various expressions - amusement, puzzlement, derision - and one girl in particular sending him into a panic with her familiar brown eyes and crooked pigtails.  
  
         The girl - a Hufflepuff if her yellow and black hair ribbons were any indication - was the same second year who had caught Harry pinning Draco to the wall with only shadows during their fight in the dungeon. She had seen him in his true, undimmed form … did she know what that meant? He'd forgotten all about her up until this moment, but now Harry felt his stomach churn with fear at the thought of being recognized as a Mori, of having his secret fall into the hands of someone completely unconnected to him, someone who could expose him. He tried to stay calm, betraying himself only by the darkening of his eyes to a glittering jade, and he stared long and hard at the girl as she and her friends approached. He looked deep into her eyes, searching for a sign, a flash of revulsion in her expression or a hint of fear in her gaze …  
  
         … and then they were passing him, and he could hear their giggles as they continued down the hallway in the opposite direction. He turned and watched them go, listening as one of the girl's friends glanced back at him then leaned over to chuckle in the blushing girl's ear, "Can you believe that, Maggie? Harry Potter was looking _right at you_ ," prompting another round of girlish squeals and giggles from the girl and her friends as she, too, looked back at Harry and smiled shyly.  
  
         Harry managed to smile weakly in return, even going so far as to give her a little wave, but on the inside his heart was pounding so fast that he worried it would beat right out of his chest. _She wasn't afraid of me … but why?_ he wondered in confusion.  
  
         "She's a little young for you, Potter."  
  
         Harry spun around, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason as he came face to face with Severus. _Why is it that everyone can sneak up on me these days?_ Harry thought with a frown, and his petulant attitude carried over into his voice as he retorted glumly, "As if you have room to talk, hypocrite."  
  
         "Ahh, but I keep up with you fairly well for being an 'old man,' don't you think?" he drawled in that rich, seductive voice as his dark gaze wandered over Harry's body hungrily before traveling back up to meet his eyes, a wicked grin curving his lips.  
  
         Harry made a low, involuntary noise that sounded a little too close to a moan for his comfort, and he tried to cover it up by turning Severus's attention back to the girl he'd just encountered. "That girl … she saw me yesterday while I was undimmed and … err, _restraining_ Draco with my shadows."  
  
         Severus smirked. "Restraining, is it? When Miss Preston came running into my classroom, crying and screaming in that infuriating way that young girls often do, she seemed to be under the impression that you were, and I quote, 'choking Draco Malfoy to death.' I suppose the truth lies somewhere between your description and hers?"  
  
         "I think 'to death' is a bit of an exaggeration," Harry said cooly, pretending to be ever-so-interested in the strap of his schoolbag.  
  
         "Mmm-hmm." Severus let it pass, only adding, "Just be more careful with your dimming. I don't want to have to cast memory charms on any more hysterical little girls simply because you can't control that temper of yours."  
  
         Harry huffed, but he couldn't really be mad at Severus when the man had saved him from yet another potential disaster. "You're always on top of things, aren't you," was all Harry said, then immediately regretted the way he phrased his compliment when he saw the lecherous grin that overtook Severus's smirk.  
  
         "For the most part, yes," he said huskily, reaching out to tuck a strand of silky, blue-black hair behind Harry's ear. "Are you saying you'd prefer it otherwise?"  
  
         "N-no, that's not what I meant," Harry muttered, averting his gaze as he swatted Severus's hand away. "I've got some studying to do, so I should - " he broke off as he felt a sharp tug on the front of his jeans, cool fingertips sliding just beneath the waistband, far enough to get a good grasp on the material so that Severus could pull him closer.  
  
         "Is that all the appreciation you intend to show me after I so generously intervened with Miss Preston on your behalf?" Severus maneuvered Harry back against the cold stone wall, placing one hand next to Harry's head while the other continued to skim along Harry's waist, his fingertips grazing over bare skin as they caressed Harry's stomach beneath the t-shirt. "I think a little gratitude is in order."  
  
         "Ummm … thanks?" Harry ducked under Severus's arm and backed away. Was it just him or was Severus acting more forward than usual? After all, they were in a very public place, a main hallway where dozens of students passed by at all hours of the day, and here he was pushing Harry up against a wall and acting for all intents and purposes as if he was just about to shove his hand down Harry's pants. Or ask that Harry do the same. _In the hallway_. And not even some dark, hidden alcove, but out in the open. Where they could be _seen_. Even worse, it was really turning Harry on …  
  
         "You look a bit flushed, Potter. Are you alright?" The cold, brusque tone of a Potions professor had crept back into Severus's voice, soothing Harry's fevered blood momentarily, but the way he closed the gap between them, stalking Harry with all the predatory grace of a ravenous jungle cat, aroused those natural instincts in Harry that screamed for him to _mate, mate, mate_ … and the consequences be damned.  
  
         "I think the _Dragon's Tears_ is wearing off," Harry said, just barely hanging on to rational thought as he side-stepped Severus yet again, catching a whiff of Severus's musky, intoxicating scent that nearly shattered his willpower. Desire and dark energy were building up inside him, but this time the feelings were too intense. He felt as if something other than his own mind was controlling his actions, similar to how he'd felt in the Great Hall the night he almost drank the _Amortentia_ , when just one look at Severus had been all it took for Harry to turn feral.  
  
         Fortunately, Severus was side-tracked by the issue of the _Dragon's Tears_ , and he settled for absently rubbing his hands up and down Harry's arms in a gesture that both soothed and aroused him while Severus tackled the mystery of the potion. "That potion should have lasted at least three more weeks, Harry. Are you sure it's wearing off? Maybe you were just tired from previous … exertions." He used one hand to tilt Harry's chin up, scrutinizing him with those piercing black eyes that managed to convey concern and lust at the same time.  
  
         Harry tried very hard to ignore the lust. "Just ask Ron. He'll tell you how sick I was while we were … outside …" Harry's words slowed to a halt as he remembered the big secret he'd told his best friend. He nervously licked his lips, unaware of the way Severus's eyes narrowed and his breathing quickened at that innocent action. "I suppose I should tell you … Ron, he … he knows about … us."  
  
         Severus raised a brow. "And I haven't been challenged to a duel? Mr. Weasley astonishes me with his calm acceptance of our relationship. I would have imagined a far different reaction from him …"  
  
         "Okay, so he wanted to kill you at first, but I convinced him that there was no way you were drugging me with love potions," Harry said in a rush, not so much out of a need to tell the truth about Ron's reaction as out of desperation to distract Severus from his current fascination with Harry's arse, the man squeezing his sore bottom roughly through his jeans, hard enough to make Harry wince even as his cock twitched its appreciation of the possessive gesture.  
  
         Severus eased his tight grip upon seeing Harry's pained expression, his eyes narrowing in silent calculation before he released Harry from his embrace and stepped away. From a distance, the sound of footsteps and light laughter drifted their way, warning them of the impending arrival of another group of students on their way to the Great Hall.  
  
         [As long as Weasley keeps his mouth shut, I don't see a problem with him knowing about us. Or Miss Granger, for that matter.] Severus pressed his cold assessment into Harry's mind, along with a few 'slips' of what he really wanted to be doing to Harry in the dim light of the castle corridor had they been completely alone and in no danger of discovery, and for what seemed the hundredth time that day, Harry blushed a bright crimson from head to toe.  
  
         [I'll give you a potion for your discomfort tonight before we go to bed,] Severus added, coupling his words with a brief softening of his hawkish features as he favored Harry with a smile, but then the group of assorted students was nearly upon them, their bubbly chatter dying away into strained silence at the sight of their much-feared Potions professor, and Severus easily fell back into his role of school villain as his face twisted into a contemptuous sneer, hissing at Harry, "Out of the way, Potter," as he swept past in a flurry of black robes.  
  
         Once Severus was gone, the inane chatter started up again and the students passed on by, leaving Harry alone in the corridor nursing a vague feeling of disappointment. _Well, at least we didn't end up shagging in the hallway_ , he tried to reassure himself, but strangely enough this did little to comfort him.  
  
         _Hallways aren't so bad, dearie_ , said a Mori spirit in a soft voice that was feminine and worn with age, like the voice of old Mrs. Figg. _Now, a broom closet …_ there's _a cramped space you don't want to get caught in during a breeding cycle …_  
  
         Harry cringed and hurriedly threw his barriers into place. The last thing he wanted to hear about right now was the sexual exploits of one of the many Mori spirits who camped out in his brain, but then suddenly he was imagining the scratch of the wall against his bare back, and the way his legs wrapped around Severus's waist as Severus pounded into him, all in the dry, dusty darkness of one of the castle'sclosets, being forcefully kissed again and again by his dark-eyed lover to keep Harry from drawing undue attention with his loud, wanton cries of pleasure and his shameless pleas for more …  
  
         "Stop it!" he commanded himself, much to the amusement of Ginny Weasley as she crept up behind him. She pounced on him with a laugh, startling Harry out of both his fantasy and the resulting erection as she tugged a lock of his hair teasingly.  
  
         "Talking to yourself, Harry? People will start saying you're crazy …"  
  
         Harry recovered from his shock to smirk at her. "It wouldn't be the first time."  
  
         Luna drifted up to them, with Neville and Dean joining the group a few seconds later, and the five of them continued on towards the Great Hall together, Ginny falling back to squeeze in between Neville and Dean, directing their conversation from classes to Quidditch, while Luna walked alongside Harry, discussing the recent issue of the Quibbler that Harry had yet to read.  
  
         "I wonder what sort of ghost would want to destroy a haunted house?" Luna questioned dreamily.  
  
         "Doesn't the article say?" Harry pulled out his copy of the magazine from his schoolbag, opening up to the page with the 'Ghostly Vandal' article and scanning the contents. The Ministry had done little to comment on the Shrieking Shack mystery, and there had only been a brief mention of 'suspected storm damage' in the Daily Prophet, so he was curious to see what the Quibbler would make of the situation, all the while burdened by the knowledge that it was his own reckless spellcasting that had ripped a hole in the old house and caused its second floor to cave in.  
  
         "Father supposes it could have been a mischievous poltergeist, but there was so much dark magic involved …" Luna shrugged, unfazed by the lack of answers and quite willing to let the mystery remain unsolved. "The only witness was an old wizard out taking his kneazle for a walk who said he arrived a few minutes after the explosion and saw a pale glowing figure standing out on the grass with two dark shapes on either side … that's where the ghost part comes from, I suppose. Who else glows like that?"  
  
         Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He was still reading the end of the article as the group entered the Great Hall, his eyes glued to the page instead of watching where he was going, and he very nearly sat down in Seamus's lap when he tried to take his place at the Gryffindor table.  
  
         "Hey now! Find your own seat, Potter," Seamus scolded him with a good-natured grin, adding with a wink, "You'll be giving everyone the wrong idea about us."  
  
         "Yeah, your boyfriend might get jealous," Ron whispered in Harry's ear as he brushed past him, leading along a slightly dazed Hermione who kept shooting Harry wide-eyed looks of disbelief.  
  
         Out of habit, Harry spared a quick glance at the teachers' table, but Severus was deep in conversation with Aiya and hadn't witnessed Harry's near-humiliation. Harry noticed the dark circles under his sister's eyes and the deepening hollows under her high cheekbones, as if both sleep and a healthy appetite were eluding her these days. Worried by her appearance, he touched his thoughts to hers, pleased to feel her immediate, loving response in his own mind as she briefly turned her lavender gaze away from Severus to twinkle brightly at her brother.  
  
         [No worries, Harry. Just feeling a little under the weather,] she said, and though Harry wasn't satisfied with her generic excuse, he didn't want to distract her from her meal with questions. She looked like she needed the nourishment.  
  
         He took a seat next to Ron and continued to flip through the Quibbler, not hungry at all after the stressful ups and downs of the day, but aside from the article on the Shrieking Shack nothing else really interested him. He was about ready to chuck the magazine back into his bag and join the boys in their discussion of the latest racing broom when a bold-faced headline caught his eye: _'Pint-sized Peeping Toms Terrorize Muggle Neighborhoods'._  
  
         The short article read:  
  
         _Reports are flooding in from all over Muggle London of a rash of break-ins where the criminals do not come to steal belongings or to vandalize, but merely to look at their victims. More puzzling is the description given by every Muggle interviewed by the undercover Aurors called in to investigate the matter. The would-be assailants are described as 'dwarfish' in stature, at other times 'tiny' or 'childlike', with inhuman faces, large ears, and big, bulging eyes. The general consensus among those Muggles interviewed was that the creature, whatever it may be, did not mean them any harm. Most of the victims woke to find the creature sitting on their bed or standing beside it, peering down at their faces as they slept. No typical signs that accompany most Muggle break-ins were found, such as broken glass or busted locks from forced entry, and the creatures were said to disappear from sight almost as soon as the owners of the house awakened, which seems to indicate that these break-ins are being committed by magical creatures and not simply mischievous Muggle children in Halloween masks, as the Ministry would have us all believe. The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures refuses to comment on the strange occurrences, and the Auror who spoke to this reporter says the Ministry is just as baffled by the 'peeping-tom' creatures as the Muggle law enforcement and therefore do not want to draw the attention of the press concerning this matter. _  
  
         The article went on to add that most of the Muggles who were victimized lived in crowded, heavily-trafficked neighborhoods, with only a brief string of home invasions occurring in the small, close-knit communities on the outskirts of the city. Harry wasn't sure how serious the story could be considering it was only being reported in the Quibbler and not in the Daily Prophet, but it raised some interesting questions.  
  
         _Why would any magical creature take the time and effort to break into a house just to look at someone? And why Muggles?_ He puzzled over the article for several more minutes before Ron noticed the serious expression on his face and snatched the magazine away with a sigh.  
  
         "You're going to rot your brain with this stuff, Harry." He shoved the magazine back into Harry's schoolbag and handed him a glassful of pumpkin juice. He grinned at Harry's dubious expression as he eyed the drink suspiciously, leaning in to say, "Don't worry. I had Hermione check it first."  
  
         Harry chuckled, feeling a little embarrassed by his own paranoia, and took a long drink of pumpkin juice, pushing aside all thoughts of the strange article as he fell into a lively, if hushed, debate with Hermione over whether he was completely out of his mind, a debate that continued later in the solitude of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (thankfully, Myrtle was off haunting some other part of the castle) as Hermione amused both her friend and her boyfriend with her disapproval - not of Severus, who she conceded was a brilliant Potions Master and a powerful wizard, not to mention a key member of the Order - but of Harry's consorting with a teacher, _any_ teacher, while he was still a student.  
  
         " … and I do hope you've read my notes," she ended her lecture sternly, peering into Harry's eyes as if she could peer into his soul.  
  
         "Err, yeah … of course I have," Harry lied.  
  
         "Then you're taking the proper precautions?" Hermione tapped her foot impatiently.  
  
         Harry blinked, wondering just what sort of precautions Hermione meant, but in the end he could only guess she meant precautions to keep his identity as a Mori secret from the rest of the school, and he nodded emphatically. "Yeah, sure … lots of precautions."  
  
         "Come on, Hermione, Harry's had a long day. You can badger him tomorrow." Ron pulled his protesting girlfriend along behind him as he walked to the door of the bathroom, grinning at Harry's grateful look. "Bye, Harry. Don't let Snape keep you up all night."  
  
         Harry rolled his eyes and shooed the couple out the door, enjoying a moment of silent solitude before he slipped into the void through a shadowy stall and made the short journey to his rooms with Severus where Ron's parting words proved rather prophetic … which, after the promised healing potion, was completely to Harry's liking.

 


	28. The Silence Before The Storm

 

         "If you're planning to go as a zombie for Halloween, I'd say you're doing a great job preparing for it," Harry said as he sat across from his sister in the small kitchenette adjoining her living room. It was nearing the end of October, and to promote student morale Dumbledore had announced there would be a special feast on the 31st, but while the rest of the school was in a festive mood, Harry was far too worried about his sister's health to join in on the fun.  
  
         Aiya spooned another helping of fettuccini onto Harry's plate, even as her own plate of pasta remained untouched, growing colder by the minute. Her thick, dark hair was messily pulled back into a low ponytail and she wore a simple white t-shirt and faded blue jeans, a far cry from her usual stylish wardrobe. She'd begged off their morning lessons that Saturday, asking him to wait and visit her around lunchtime. In the few weeks since he'd first seen her looking sickly, Aiya had taken a turn for the worse, her energy lagging and the circles under her eyes darkening, until Harry hardly recognized her as the same spirited, bright-eyed morwen who had haunted the halls of Grimmauld Place that fateful night when they first met.  
  
         "I don't know, Harry. I just feel like hell," she said with a sigh, wearily rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes. "I think I might be coming down with something."  
  
         Sad as he was to see his sister ignore her food, Harry's appetite had grown immeasurably in recent days and he felt only the slightest remorse as he devoured his third helping of Aiya's delicious cooking. He didn't know where she'd found the energy to cook, but a part of him was selfishly pleased that she'd taken the time to prepare something special for him - Aiya's cooking, 'made with love', really did taste better than anything they served in the Great Hall. During one of those rare moments when his fork wasn't shoveling creamy alfredo-drenched noodles into his mouth, Harry said sternly, "You need to go see Madam Pomfrey."  
  
         "Yeah, yeah," was Aiya's unenthusiastic reply, and Harry's responding glare brought a fond smile to her lips, bringing a bit of color and life back to her pallid features as her amused thoughts flowed gently into his mind. [Oh, was that an _order_ , Little Brother? You look just like Rauko with that expression on your face …]  
  
         [And what expression is that? The ' _I'm right and you know it_ ' expression? Or the ' _I really want to smack some sense into you_ ' expression?] Harry scowled, dropping his fork onto his plate with a loud clatter as he leaned over the table and pressed Aiya's fork into her own hand, adding out loud, "And for Merlin's sake, _eat something_!"  
  
         [You _sound_ like him, too.] Aiya's lavender eyes, sparkling and full of mirth, cooled Harry's sudden temper. His emotions had been jumping from one extreme to the other in the past few days, though Severus tended to bear the brunt of it, and his concern over Aiya's declining health had been simmering just beneath the surface until it boiled over into frustration and anger. He was just grateful that Aiya wasn't taking his tantrum personally - in fact, her pale cheeks had gained some more color and she was tentatively taking small bites of her food, just as Harry had 'commanded' in his Rauko-like tone.  
  
         "And finish it all this time or I'm telling Severus, and then you'll _really_ think you're talking to Rauko," Harry threatened, grinning when Aiya perked up and began eating in earnest. Severus had commented several times on Aiya's altered appearance, going so far as to slip nourishing potions into her drinks during mealtimes, but even those covert methods of treating Aiya's mysterious illness had failed to improve her condition.  
  
         "Severus has been looking a little haggard himself these days. Really, Harry, you should let the man get some sleep now and then." Aiya shook her fork at Harry teasingly, laughing at his crimson blush.  
  
         "Hey, I don't hear him complaining when - " Harry cut himself off, aware that he'd just fallen into Aiya's trap. His sister had been trying to pry details of his love life out of him in the past two weeks, starting the weekend after he'd first slept with Severus, but Harry refused to give in to the urge to spill all his secrets to her. For one thing, he felt the oddest pang of guilt whenever he talked about Severus to Aiya. He felt like he was flaunting his happiness in her face. And then there was the obvious embarrassment of talking to his sister about sex at all. And the kind of sex he had with Severus - hot, rough and frequent - didn't exactly make for good lunch conversation.  
  
         "You don't have to go on. That's all the confirmation I needed." Aiya smiled gently.  
  
         And the truth was, Harry _did_ have a habit of pouncing on Severus at all hours of the day, driven by an insatiable hunger for his lover's touch. He'd taken the term 'quickie' to new extremes, luring Severus into an empty classroom or one of the many dark alcoves spread over the school where somehow only a few brutal thrusts was all it took for both of them to find their bliss, then parting ways to return to their normal activities as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. And the nights … well, neither of them had been getting much sleep lately, though Harry didn't suffer the ill effects of exhaustion like Severus did, only an increased sun-sickness that even a second dose of _Dragon's Tears_ hadn't cured.  
  
         "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in heat," Aiya commented around a mouthful of noodles.  
  
         Harry bristled at the implication that he was acting no better than some instinct-driven animal, crossing his arms defensively over his chest and pointedly looking away from his grinning sister. "Very funny."  
  
         "It's not a joke! If you were a natural-born, I'd be worried." Aiya pushed aside her plate, having finished only half of her pasta. "But you're not, so I'm sure it's just teenage hormones and all that."  
  
         "It's different for natural-borns?" Harry realized there were still a lot of things he didn't know about the Mori. He'd been putting off reading the rest of Hermione's notes for some time now - every spare moment he had from classes and homework and Quidditch was devoted to tracking down Severus for a quick release - but maybe there was something in those notes that would give him a better insight into why he was feeling the way he felt. Even better, maybe there was a hint of why Aiya had grown so sick lately.  
  
         "Natural-borns go through breeding cycles, which can be tough if you're unattached."  
  
         _Breeding cycles … where had he heard that before?_ Harry shook off the deja-vu feeling that crept into his brain, choosing to put a stop to the conversation before Aiya started describing her first experience of having a breeding cycle as a single morwen, or something equally mortifying for Harry to hear. He figured breeding didn't have much to do with him anyway, being a turned morion in a same-sex relationship.  
  
         "You promised you'd read for me today, remember?" He flexed his hands, a recent habit ever since Aiya had marked the backs of his hands with the Elvish runes that helped him control his wild magic, though their ability to focus his magic faltered on those rare occasions that Harry was filled to the bursting with dark energy. In such cases, only Severus could prevent Harry from becoming a danger to himself and others. In apology for the painful tattooing process (healing potions or numbing spells would have diluted the potency of the magical runes), Aiya had promised Harry to read for him, something she had been loathe to do ever since Rauko had shown such a keen interest in knowing what the future held in store for Harry.  
  
         "So I did. Clear the plates while I go get my cards."  
  
         Harry grumped good-naturedly over being left to take care of the mess, but he considered it a small price to pay since Aiya had done the hard part in making the meal in the first place. He only wished Aiya had managed to eat a whole meal instead of just half, but it was better than nothing. By the time he was finished cleaning up, Aiya had returned with her deck of cards, expertly shuffling them as she reclaimed her seat.  
  
         "Umm, no death predictions," Harry said as he sat down across from her, tucking one leg underneath him.  
  
         "I'm not Trelawney," Aiya said with a scowl.  
  
         "In fact, no bad news at all."  
  
         "Come on, Harry. You know it doesn't work that way …"  
  
         "And please, don't tell me if Sirius disowns me in the future, because I just don't want to know - "  
  
         "Harry!"  
  
         He blinked, looking up at his sister with wide eyes.  
  
         Aiya slapped the deck down in front of him, grinning despite her frustrated outburst. "Just cut the deck, will you?"  
  
         Harry smiled sheepishly and quickly cut the deck, pushing the cards back towards Aiya.  
  
         [The spirits are awfully quiet today,] Aiya mused with a frown, holding the deck in her hands for several seconds before shrugging and spreading the cards out onto the table in one long, curved spread, her fingertips hovering over the chain of cards before she quickly slid out three of them to place face-down in front of Harry. She turned them over slowly, drinking in the picture revealed each time, but her eyes darkened and her expression grew more confused with each flip of the cards.  
  
         "Strange …" she said, and she sat back, plucking absently at the collar of her shirt.  
  
         Harry looked down at the cards. The first one he recognized as the same raven that had appeared in Sirius's reading at Grimmauld Place. _Well, no surprise there_ , Harry thought, and he moved on.  
  
         The next card was of a long-bodied creature, small and furry, with rounded ears and a tail that was currently drawn around its body. It reminded Harry of a weasel or maybe a ferret, and for a split-second he thought of Draco, his suppressed laughter nearly choking him. Whatever it was, there was a fierce gleam in its black eyes as it stared up at Harry, an expression that warned him not to take this creature lightly.  
  
         The third card caught Harry's attention completely. It was the black panther from Severus's portrait, exact in every detail, except this one was stationary, lounging in a roughly sketched tree, but looking as if it would leap off the card at Harry if it could.  
  
         _The raven and the panther_. He could guess what the first and last card meant, but what about the middle one? He looked back up at Aiya only to see her fretfully staring down at the cards as well, her head cocked to one side as if she were straining to hear something.  
  
         "Aiya?" Harry reached over and grabbed her hand, gasping in surprise at how cold and clammy her skin was. "Aiya, what's wrong?"  
  
         "Hmm?" Aiya blinked, smiling distractedly at Harry as she pulled her hand away. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out there for a minute. Let's see …" she peered down at the cards with renewed concentration, but Harry could sense several emotions leaking from her - puzzlement, apprehension, even fear - and in such a subtle way that he was sure Aiya didn't know she was projecting them. That alone was cause for Harry to worry, since his sister was usually firmly in control of her emotions.  
  
         "Raven, your familiar," she said softly, gently touching the first card. "Every Mori has a familiar, an animal that represents who they are and what they're capable of … and Raven is a powerful guardian. He travels between our world and the spirit world, a creature of great intelligence and ancient magic, and the few Mori that have been blessed with his presence in their lives are strong-willed with impressive mind talents - well, you've met Rauko - and they tend to have a close connection with the spirits." Aiya paused here, biting nervously at her lower lip, then shook her head with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Harry. That's all I can tell you about that card. The spirits aren't…" but she broke off and moved on to the next card.  
  
         "It's not a ferret, is it?" Harry asked cautiously as he, too, looked down at the second card.  
  
         Aiya chuckled. "No, it's not. This is a mongoose."  
  
         Harry didn't bother to stifle his sigh of relief.  
  
         "Mongoose …" Her eyes narrowed in concentration, brightening from dark indigo to violet. "I guess … I guess it has something to do with Voldemort. I mean, in some countries, the mongoose is prized as a snake-killer."  
  
         Harry raised a brow but said nothing. Aiya was _guessing_? Why didn't she have that same confidence in herself that she'd shown when reading for Sirius?  
  
         "And mongoose is often a sign that you should take the initiative when dealing with the problems in your life. No hesitation, no self-doubt …" Aiya fell silent, apparently wrestling with her own self-doubt as she squirmed uneasily in her chair.  
  
         "You know, maybe this is too much for you right now," Harry said, starting to get up from his chair. "You're sick and - "  
  
         " _No!_ " Aiya seemed to scare herself with the desperation in her own voice, not to mention startling Harry into dropping back into his seat, but she soon regained her composure and continued in a softer tone, "No, I'm fine. The spirits are silent today, so I'm having to rely on intuition alone. It's not something I'm used to. I can't understand why they aren't responding to me …"  
  
         _So that was it_. Wanting to bolster his sister's confidence, Harry offered a reassuring grin as he said, "Well, I think you've done a great job so far without them."  
  
         Aiya shot him a grateful smile, her indigo eyes paling to a muted lilac before she continued on to the next card. "Let's see. Black panther … a reference to Severus, of course. It's his dormant familiar. Panthers are stealthy, secretive, sexy as hell," she looked up at Harry with a teasing glint in her eyes, "and very seductive when they want to be."  
  
         Harry blushed. "That sounds about right."  
  
         "You know, it could be your Mori instincts reacting to Severus's dormant familiar that have you so … well, _eager._ " Aiya tried to be delicate but only ended up making Harry groan in embarrassment. "I'm just saying, panthers are very sensual creatures … so maybe you're just responding to Severus's innate sexuality."  
  
         "Good, so it's _his_ fault." Harry filed that little tidbit of information away for future reference.  
  
         "That's not exactly what I was saying …" Aiya slowly stood, teetering a bit on her feet. Whatever hint of color had crept into her cheeks during lunch had now drained away, leaving her pale and listless, and for once she didn't seem inclined to pretend nothing was wrong. "I … I think I need to lay down …"  
  
         Harry popped up from his seat, wrapping his arm around his sister's waist as he supported her. Aiya resisted at first, mumbling protests of being 'just fine' and fully capable of walking on her own, but eventually she gave in and let Harry help her out of the kitchenette and into her bedroom. He felt a little like their roles were reversed and he was the older sibling, pulling back the covers on the bed so she could crawl in, then tucking them around her as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her.  
  
         "You should get some rest. The Halloween Feast is only a couple of nights away, and I think Severus is counting on you to be there so he has someone to talk to who 'won't inspire suicidal urges' in him … his words, not mine."  
  
         Aiya managed a weak grin. "Is that a compliment? From _Severus_? How rare …"  
  
         "Yeah, he's getting soft." Harry smirked, then bent to press a kiss to Aiya's forehead. "Get better, okay?"  
  
         She nodded, her presence silently embracing his mind in a warm hug, then closed her eyes, her breathing evening out after only a few short minutes as she fell into a deep sleep.  
  
         _She must have been exhausted_ , Harry decided, brushing an errant lock of ebony from Aiya's face before he forced himself to abandon his protective hovering and tiptoe out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
         He backtracked to the kitchenette where he meant to gather up Aiya's cards and put them someplace safe until she woke up. His curiosity kept him from tidying them up right away, his hand hovering over the remaining long chain of cards spread out before him. He felt a sudden tingle in his fingers as they paused over a card at the far right end. He gingerly eased the card out of its place in the chain and flipped it over.  
  
         "A seahorse?" Harry pondered the aquatic animal imprinted on the card but didn't have any psychic revelations about what the animal might mean. _I don't suppose you guys know anything?_ he asked the spirits, but there was no response at all.  
  
         "Oh, so _now_ you decide to give me the silent treatment?" Harry muttered bitterly, returning the card to the pile and gathering them all back into one neat deck. Well, at least Aiya wasn't being singled out - the spirits weren't talking to _either_ of them. But what did that mean?  
  
         Harry finished tidying up and decided to take actually walk back down to his rooms with Severus in the dungeon to give him some time to settle his anxiety, but he couldn't shrug off that sense of foreboding as he grew more and more aware of the absolute lack of background noise in his mind. His head felt strangely empty, his own thoughts echoing back at him in that eerie calm, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed it before. Then again, he'd only been a Mori for a couple of months, so he'd only just learned to cope with the cacophony of voices buzzing in the back of his brain day in and day out; Aiya had lived with those voices all of her life. No wonder she was strangely off-balance when they suddenly went silent.  
  
         The hallways were absent of students, most of them off at Hogsmeade or enjoying the last of the cool autumn weather before the first hints of winter were ushered in by November. The resounding tap of his own footsteps on the stone floor was Harry's only solace from the tomb-like stillness of the Hogwarts corridors as he quickly made his way down to the dungeons. He knew Severus would still be busy making angry red marks on poorly-written Potions essays or analyzing his students' mediocre attempts at perfecting some everyday draught or tonic, so he decided it was safe to return to their rooms. Severus had taken to conducting all his school-related business in the office adjoining his classroom rather than bringing his work back with him.  
  
         _No chance for me to jump him as long as he's holed up in that office_ , Harry thought with a mixture of relief and disappointment. He turned down the long corridor that led straight to their rooms, but his brisk pace gradually slowed to a standstill as he saw what was waiting for him …  
  
         "Potter." Draco pushed away from the wall he'd been casually leaning against, dusting off his dark trousers with both hands before resting them on his hips, staring at Harry with those icy blue-grey eyes of his. "Just the person I was looking for."  
  
         "Lucky me," Harry lashed out sarcastically, mostly out of habit rather than actual malice, but his harsh tone only provoked a slight smirk to curve Draco's lips.  
  
         "You and I need to talk."  
  
         "Do we?" Harry moved to brush past him but Draco grabbed his arm.  
  
         "Yes, we do," Draco hissed, a hint of steel in his voice. Then, as if remembering himself, Draco let go of his rival's arm and backed away a step, continuing in a mild, controlled manner, "I have a … proposition for you. One that would be beneficial to both of us. But it's not something I'm going to discuss with you out in the open like this."  
  
         Harry hesitated, intrigued by Draco's words but loath to invite him inside. It was bad enough that Draco knew his secrets - from being a Mori to being Severus's live-in lover - but now he had to make nice and socialize with the git?  
  
         Draco retained a patient, unruffled exterior, but something unruly and feverish in his gaze tipped Harry off that Draco wasn't nearly as unaffected as he tried to appear. When Harry didn't say anything, simply staring at Draco as he contemplated his next move, Draco cursed under his breath and closed the gap between them, venting his frustrations as he glared at Harry. "Whether you like it or not, you and I are on the same side now, Potter. Believe me, the idea of it makes my skin crawl, but I'm not so stuck in the past that I'll toss away a potential ally like you seem ready to do. Now, are you going to invite me inside or not?"  
  
         Harry shoved him away, unnerved by the invasion of his personal space because it immediately sent his instincts into overdrive and he really couldn't afford another fist-fight in the hallways after he'd promised Severus to be more careful about his temper. Wordlessly, he walked up to the portrait where the black panther was lounging in its lofty branch, meeting the fierce gaze of the wild beast and issuing a silent command for entrance. He continued on into the living room after the portrait swung open, pausing only to call back over his shoulder, "Come in, then, before someone sees you standing out there."  
  
         The sound of the door closing behind him had a ring of finality to it, prompting a reprisal of self-doubt in Harry that he did the right thing letting Draco into the room. _Take the initiative_ .. isn't that what Aiya had said? Maybe it was time to stop second-guessing himself and truly let his instincts take over. They hadn't steered him wrong so far, and right now his instincts were telling him that it would be a good idea to listen to whatever it was Draco had to say.  
  
         "Make yourself comfortable, I guess." Harry gestured vaguely towards the couch and armchairs on the right side of the room, not turning his back on the other boy as he waited for Draco to choose a seat; only then did Harry sit down as well, sinking with a sigh into the plush cushions of the couch, keeping to the end farthest from Draco.  
  
         "So," he began, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Draco with narrowed eyes, "what is it you want to talk about?"  
  
         But now that Draco had won entrance into Harry's private rooms, his bravado crumbled, that cold, uncaring façade melting away to reveal a troubled, almost frantic, expression underneath. "She's sick. Don't think I haven't noticed. What's wrong with her?"  
  
         Harry shifted uncomfortably. Why couldn't Draco just keep being … well, _Draco_? Harry knew how to act around the self-centered, stick-up-his-ass Slytherin that had been his rival for seven straight years, but what was he supposed to do with a Draco who actually exhibited the capacity to care for another human being?  
  
         _Hmm, maybe I should check his breath for polyjuice potion_ , Harry thought with a frown, but then he realized he'd actually have to get close to Draco to do that and he quickly changed his mind. He'd just tell Draco what he knew, then kick him out.  
  
         "I don't know what's wrong with her. She doesn't eat, doesn't sleep. I told her today that she needs to go to Madam Pomfrey, and I think I convinced her, but right now she's getting some rest. There, are you satisfied?"  
  
         Draco swallowed hard, then said firmly, "I want to see her."  
  
         "You see her every day in class," Harry pointed out with cruel indifference, though deep inside he felt that irritating twinge of guilt that pricked at his conscience whenever he interfered with Draco and Aiya.  
  
         "Would _you_ be satisfied with that?" Draco pounded his fist on the arm of his chair, leaning forward to glare at Harry. "If our situations were reversed, would you be content to just sit and look at Severus in class and know that was all the time you would ever get to spend with him?"  
  
         Harry looked away, strangely moved by Draco's argument but unwilling to let him know it. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, then hunched over with a sigh, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands together as he tried to imagine himself in Draco's shoes for the first time.  
  
         Draco took the lack of response as a sign to continue. "I want to see her, and I know you can arrange it. She listens to you. And in return …"  
  
         Harry perked up, looking back at Draco with inquisitive eyes.  
  
         Draco took a deep breath, then carried on resolutely, " … in return, I'll take Severus's place as the spy in Voldemort's circle."  
  
         Whatever he'd been expecting Draco to offer, it certainly hadn't been that. Harry's eyes were wide as saucers, and he waited for Draco to smirk and confess it was all a prank, but his expression remained steadfastly serious.  
  
         "Think about it, Potter. You won't have to worry about Severus getting called away, and I'll get to see Aiya. Fair trade, don't you think?"  
  
         Harry's poor heart nearly burst out of his chest at the possibility of freeing Severus from his duty as a spy. It would be a solution that even Dumbledore might agree to, since there would still be a spy in the enemy camp and the flow of secret information would remain intact. And Draco, as a Death Eater's son, would probably be privilege to the sort of information that had been withheld from Severus lately. _It was a tempting offer …_  
  
         Draco stood up, extending his hand towards Harry. "Well, Potter? Do we have a deal?"  
  


 


	29. Striking a Deal

 

         "Well, Potter? Do we have a deal?"  
  
         Harry stared at the hand Draco was offering to him, painfully aware that all it would take was one shake of that hand and a huge weight would be lifted off his heart where Severus's safety was concerned. He only had to say 'yes' and he would never have to suffer from the dread - that continuous, all-consuming dread - of waking one morning to find Severus had been called away by Voldemort, with no guarantee that his lover would ever return. It would be so simple to just reach out his hand and …  
  
         "No," Harry said.  
  
         "No?" The disbelief in Draco's voice made him sound lost and childlike, but he quickly recovered, icy disdain creeping into his tone as his hand dropped to his side. "You must really enjoy this … having me come to you, asking for a favor. Do I have to beg before you'll agree? Is that it? Do you want me to suffer first before you'll say yes?"  
  
         "Don't be stupid," Harry snapped.  
  
         "I was so sure you'd jump at the chance to keep Severus safe," Draco continued, ignoring Harry's offended outburst as he raked a hand through his white-blond hair, managing to look bewildered and furious at the same time.  
  
         "You think I'd let someone take the Dark Mark just so I could sleep a little easier at night?" Harry bristled at the insinuation, though he realized he probably would have believed the same of Draco - he did tend to think the worst of him.  
  
         "I think you'd do just about anything to keep me away from Aiya." Draco turned and started walking towards the door. When he reached it, he turned for one last parting shot. "And here I thought you would be one of the few people who could understand what I'm going through. But maybe you're the sort who'd just give up if you had to fight to be with the person you loved."  
  
         Harry felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. _Give up on Severus?_ He couldn't even imagine it. No matter how much Dumbledore disapproved, or how disgusted his friends were, or even how violently Sirius objected …   
  
         _Shit,_ Harry thought, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. Here he was acting every bit like Sirius might - no, like Sirius _definitely would_ \- once he found out about Harry and Severus. Putting himself in Draco's shoes suddenly became much easier for him, and he realized he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer.  
  
         "I can probably get her to see you," Harry said, sullenly at first, but his tone lightened as he finally rid himself of the guilt that had been building up from messing with Aiya's love life. He'd leave that sort of thing up to Rauko, who was much more of an enemy to Draco's happiness than Harry could ever be. He wondered if he should warn Draco about Aiya's 'demon' father … well, maybe later. "She tries to hide it, but I know she misses you."  
  
         Draco glared at Harry, suspicious of this sudden change of heart. "This isn't some sick joke, is it?"  
  
         "Do you want my help or not?" Harry pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself against the side of the couch as a momentary dizziness overcame him, but he shook it off as he heard Draco crossing the room back towards him. He faced him expectantly, waiting for his answer.  
  
         "In return for taking Severus's place?" Draco asked cautiously, as if feeling out the terms of this truce between them.  
  
         "Will you just forget about that?" There was no way he would be able to live with himself if he allowed Draco to take the risk of becoming a spy and then something horrible happened to him as a result - and of course there was the pain it would cause Aiya. "Keep those suicidal urges to yourself. If Aiya ever knew you'd even thought about becoming a Death Eater just to be with her, she'd be devastated."  
  
         Draco's eyes widened and his right hand twitched, that nervous tic that Harry had come to see more and more often from him, but those were the only indications that Harry's words had affected the 'ice prince' in any way. Cool and aloof once more, Draco stood straight-backed at the opposite end of the couch from Harry, his eyes narrowed to two slits of rain-cloud gray. "So what do you want in return, then?"  
  
         Harry smirked. _Leave it to a Slytherin to think everything comes with a price_ , he mused as he propped himself on the armrest of the couch, finding it a little taxing to be standing while that strange lightheadedness kept attacking him at odd moments. "Let's just say you owe me one."  
  
         Draco frowned, clearly unsettled by the idea of being in debt to Harry for anything, but his determination to cement the deal between them overrode his misgivings and he stretched out his hand to Harry once more. "I can live with that. So it's a deal?"  
  
         Harry didn't allow himself to hesitate as he grabbed Draco's hand and gave it a firm shake. "It's a deal."  
  
         They dropped hands as quickly as they'd joined them, but Draco seemed enough at ease in Harry's presence now to claim a seat on the couch near to where Harry still sat perched on the armrest. "So when do you think I can see her?"  
  
         Harry almost snapped at him to 'be a little fucking patient' but he wisely held his tongue. He didn't want to end their cease-fire just as soon as it had begun. "Give me some time to talk to her. She can be stubborn when she's made up her mind about something, and right now she's made up her mind to forget about you."  
  
         Draco nodded slowly, his mouth opening to speak, but then he seemed to think better of it and pressed his lips into one tight line.  
  
         Harry raised a brow. "What?"  
  
         Draco made a show of inspecting his nails, his gaze carefully averted from Harry's face. "I just … sometimes it seems like … I can hear her. In my …" his voice trailed off.  
  
         _In his … what? Dreams?_ Harry snorted at the idea of such a sentimental phrase coming from someone as cold and reticent as Draco. But what else could Draco mean? _In his_ … Harry mentally smacked himself. Had his brain gone on vacation or something? Trying to wrap his mind around the implications of this new revelation, Harry said slowly, "You hear her in your _head_?"  
  
         Draco tensed, glancing sideways at Harry in anticipation of seeing his mocking grin, but Harry was staring at him with a serious expression. "Well … yes. It's faint, and mostly I just think I'm imagining it, but …"  
  
         _Aiya never said anything, so she must not realize she's doing it … could it be an incomplete bond?_ Maybe Aiya had unknowingly been forming a bond between herself and Draco from the very beginning, but Rauko's order had prompted her to cut ties with him, disrupting the bonding process. How would an unfinished bond affect a Mori? Could it cause sickness? If even the thought of having his bond with Severus weakened or destroyed made Harry's stomach twist in painful knots, then it was highly likely that Aiya's mysterious illness had its roots in this fragmented bond to Draco.  
  
         "Change of plans," Harry said, easing onto his feet again, grateful that for once the room didn't spin in response. "I'll make sure you see her by Halloween."  
  
         Draco look surprised but gratified by Harry's offer of a specific date as opposed to the vague 'I'll talk to her about it' response he'd received earlier. "You think she'll be willing to see me that soon?"  
  
         _If she keeps getting worse, I don't think she'll have much of a choice_ , Harry thought grimly to himself, but to Draco he just shrugged noncommittally. "Won't hurt to try."  
  
         "I usually prefer the odds to be in my favor before I'll try anything," Draco said as he stood up, his benign expression the product of years of practiced detachment, "but in this case, I'll make an exception."  
  
         _Do they have some special class just for Slytherins where they teach you how to conceal every single emotion?_ Harry wondered. He'd seen Draco's emotionless mask crack several times today, but looking at him now it was impossible to tell that Draco had felt anything stronger than mild concern during the entirety of their interaction. _And Severus is just the same_ , Harry thought with a sigh. He cherished every emotion he glimpsed on his lover's face simply because they were so rarely exposed to him.   
  
         "Glad to hear it. Now get lost, will you? I'm tired …" Harry tried to be gruff with Draco but only ended up sounding drowsy.  
  
         Draco smirked. "Is Severus wearing you out these days?"  
  
         "Don't make me hex you," Harry threatened, his eyes darkening to a deep jade as he glared at him.   
  
         "Fine, fine, I'm going." Draco strutted to the door, his arrogant confidence fully reinstated now that he'd secured an alliance with Harry. Harry followed behind, his hands itching with the urge to slam the door behind the smug boy once he left.  
  
         Draco put one hand on the doorknob and started to turn it, but then he pulled his hand away and turned to Harry. "Since we'll be working on the same side from now on, there's something I need to confess …"   
  
         Harry eyed his rival warily, crossing his arms over his chest. "What?"  
  
         "I've been making money off you this year. All those love potions people were slipping into your drinks? I'm the one who sold them. You'd be surprised how much someone's willing to pay for a chance to be with the famous Harry Potter." There was a touch of the customary sneer in Draco's voice, but he had the decency to look penitent for capitalizing on Harry's misfortunes.  
  
         "It was _you_?" Harry grabbed Draco by the collar and yanked him forward so their noses almost touched, his voice rough with anger. "Even the _Amortentia_?" If Draco had been the one to sell that dangerous love potion to one of Harry's secret admirers, Harry didn't know if he'd be able to forgive him. What if he'd actually drank the stuff?  
  
         Draco braced his hands against Harry's shoulders, trying to free himself from Harry's grip. He scowled when his efforts proved futile. "I don't know what you're talking about. I never sold _Amortentia_ to anyone."  
  
         Harry hadn't decided whether he believed Draco or not when suddenly the door behind them swung open, revealing a startled Severus looming in the doorway.  
  
         "Well … what a pleasant surprise," Severus drawled, but his stiff expression indicated he found the situation anything but pleasant.   
  
         Harry promptly let go of Draco, ashamed to be caught losing his temper. "Severus! We were … uhhh …"   
  
         "… discussing our upcoming Potions assignment," Draco lied with a touch of boredom in his voice, as if he didn't care whether Severus believed him or not. "I was just leaving."  
  
         Severus glanced at Harry, whose cheeks were still flushed from anger, then back at Draco. "Good day, then, Mr. Malfoy." He brushed past them, walking straight into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him without so much as a second look at Harry.  
  
         Draco smirked. "Oooo, you're in for it now, Potter."  
  
         Harry vented his frustration by shoving Draco out the door, ignoring Draco's chuckles as he hissed at him, "Keep it up, Malfoy, and I'll see to it that Aiya learns all about your little money-making scheme."  
  
         The threat was enough to wipe the smirk from Draco's face, and Harry had the satisfaction of slamming the door shut in his rival's worried face. They might have called a truce, but that didn't mean they had to like each other. Dusting his hands off as if he'd just completed some disgusting but necessary task, Harry then made a beeline for the bedroom door. He took a moment to calm himself, his hand clutching the doorknob in a death-grip as he gave himself a much-needed lecture. _Okay, Harry_ , he sternly told himself,  _no giving in to whatever he asks, no begging and pleading, and absolutely no letting him into your mind while he shuts you out of his._ He gave one quick, decisive nod in agreement with his own words, took a deep, cleansing breath, then opened the door and ventured a few steps inside the bedroom.  
  
         "Severus?" He heard the door click shut behind him, then a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and tugged him back against the lean body of his lover.   
  
         "What was Draco doing in our rooms?" Severus's tone was dangerously soft as his hands roamed over Harry's body.  
  
         "He had a proposition for me - "  
  
         Severus dug his fingers painfully into Harry's hips, eliciting a gasp from his young lover.  
  
         "A proposition about _Aiya_ ," Harry swiftly clarified, and the tight grip eased. Against his better judgment, he let a soft chuckle escape his lips.   
  
         Long, clever fingers worked to unfasten Harry's pants, the rasp of his zipper sounding loud in the stillness of the room, and then there was the sensation of hot, moist breath against his ear as Severus murmured darkly, "This is amusing for you, is it?"  
  
         "Actually, it's insulting that you think I'd be doing wicked things with Draco." Harry did his best to keep his voice even and firm, fighting the instinct to grind back against Severus's growing erection that was currently poking at Harry's arse. The mention of 'wicked things' and the plethora of possibilities that those words brought to mind didn't help matters. "Don't you trust me?"  
  
         "You, I trust. It's everyone else I'm worried about … " Severus switched tracks, opting for a persuasive, placating tone instead of the outright jealousy of before. His hand slipped into the open vee of Harry's jeans and began to slowly rub his stiffening cock, not yet giving Harry the skin-to-skin contact he yearned for as he kept his hand on the outside of Harry's boxers. "Are you saying if you caught me alone with Draco in our rooms, in much the same position I found you in, that there would be no jealousy on your part?"  
  
         The hypothetical scenario played out in Harry's mind before he could stop himself, his imagination conjuring up a flushed and agitated Severus who clutched at Draco's shirtfront while Draco's fingers dug into Severus's shoulders, their faces mere inches apart, the atmosphere of the room thick with tension. To say it was a suspicious scene was an understatement.  
  
         [My point exactly,] Severus purred into his mind, abandoning his sensual massage of Harry's erection to shove the jeans off Harry's hips and down to his ankles, then slipping one hand underneath Harry's dark cotton shirt to trace teasing circles over his stomach while the other toyed with the waistband of Harry's boxers.  
  
         "Get out of my head," Harry insisted, determined to follow every single one of the rules he had set out for himself before coming into the bedroom, and he raised his barriers to knock Severus out of his thoughts at the same time that he broke free from his lover's imprisoning embrace. He pulled his jeans back up and elbowed past Severus to fling open the bedroom door. He had to put some distance between them or that earthy scent and those delightful fingers were sure to distract Harry into forgetting all his resolutions.  
  
         But Severus wasn't one to be denied, and he recaptured Harry halfway into the sitting room. "Running away, Potter? That's not like you at all. You've been so eager for my touch lately … why put up such a resistance now?"  
  
         The echo of Aiya's teasing comment about Harry being 'in heat' thundered through his brain and he blushed, but the reminder of what his behavior had resembled in the past few weeks was enough to strengthen Harry's resolve and have him struggling against Severus's iron grasp. "I've got a headache," he offered the age-old excuse dryly, ignoring Severus's rich, throaty laughter.  
  
         "Nothing a potion can't fix." Severus pulled Harry back into his arms, maneuvering them both over to one of the overstuffed armchairs where Severus plopped down with a devious grin, securing Harry in his lap with one arm while speedily divesting him of his jeans a second time, followed by his boxers, until Harry was left in just his t-shirt and socks.  
  
         "It's the middle of the day!" Harry protested after his first excuse failed, wriggling in Severus's lap in a way that only excited him even more, and Harry himself could feel the unrelenting heat of desire consume his body, his instincts starting to take over, all rational thought shoved to the side until those primal urges could be satisfied.  
  
         "That didn't stop you yesterday when you sucked me off between classes." Severus's voice was a low, husky whisper that sent shivers of delight through his young lover. He brushed his fingers over Harry's trembling mouth, moaning softly when Harry willingly parted those full lips and took two of his fingers into his mouth.. " _Mmm … that's it_. Yes, you loved that, didn't you? You couldn't get enough of my cock sliding between your lips, my fingers in your hair, and then the greedy way you swallowed every drop as I came into your mouth …," Severus dropped his free hand to Harry's crotch, curling his fingers around Harry's shaft, "…and I didn't even have to touch this," he stroked Harry's cock for emphasis, "because you came just from sucking me, didn't you?"  
  
         Harry groaned around the fingers in his mouth. When exactly had he lost control of this situation? It was as if his brain disconnected from his body whenever he was around Severus. He spread his legs wide, splaying them so they hooked on the armrests of the chair, exposing himself in wanton invitation as Severus fisted his cock. He murmured a protest when Severus pulled his fingers out of Harry's mouth, but then those slick fingers reached down to tease Harry's puckered hole and he could only manage a grunt of approval  
  
         "I'm going to fuck you, Potter," his deliberate use of Harry's last name sent a thrill through Harry, as it seemed to indicate something taboo occurring between professor and student, rather than the natural course of passion between two lovers, "but first I need to hear you say it …"  
  
         _Isn't he tired of hearing me say this by now? It's been two weeks of the same thing ..._ Harry squirmed, more from shyness than from a desire to escape, but the wriggle of his hips only forced Severus's fingers deeper, wringing another desperate cry from Harry's lips.  
  
         "You sound so sweet," Severus moaned into his ear, pumping his fingers mercilessly into Harry's tight hole while continuing to gently squeeze and stroke his cock. "Just two little words, Harry, that's all you have to give me … two little words."  
  
         Harry arched into those talented fingers, his head falling back against Severus's shoulder, and he stretched one hand upwards to curl behind his lover's head, his fingers threading into that long, dark hair to bring Severus closer, claiming his lips in a deep, incendiary kiss before murmuring against his mouth, "I'm yours."  
  
         Severus jerked as if the words whispered against his lips had burned him, but there was no denying the flare of passion and, in the darkest depths, _devotion_ in the man's glittering black eyes. Harry's husky admission seemed to drive Severus into a frenzy as he licked and bit at those kiss-swollen lips, possessing Harry's mouth again and again with a fierce hunger that matched Harry's own voracious appetite.  
  
         [Say it again,] Severus pressed the command into Harry's vulnerable mind. Harry started to resist, but suddenly he felt Severus opening to him, lowering all his defenses as their minds brushed against each other, and it became hard for Harry to separate his own lust and desires from the raw need emanating from his lover. For only the second time since their relationship began, Harry was experiencing every emotion, every nuance of Severus's complicated thoughts … and it was intoxicating. His stunned silence provoked a return of that velvety voice in his mind, this time laced with a touch of desperation. [I need to hear you say it again.]  
  
         [I'm yours … only yours … ] Harry felt Severus shudder beneath him, then he was biting again at Harry's tender lips, at times so carried away by the heat and the intensity that he broke the skin, drawing drops of cherry-red blood that trickled down Harry's chin only to be licked away by Severus's tongue. Harry retaliated with a vicious bite of his own, sinking his teeth into Severus's lower lip and relishing his sudden intake of breath - there could be no denial that Severus enjoyed the pain, not with their minds so closely linked as they were now - but if Harry had been in doubt, then the unmistakable grind of Severus's groin against Harry's bottom was reassurance enough. Harry gently sucked at the wound he'd made, indulging in the archaic ritual of becoming one with his lover in every way, then pressed lovingly into Severus's mind, [And you are mine.]  
  
         " _Yesss_ ," Severus hissed, crushing his lips against Harry's, invading his mouth with his tongue so they could each taste the other's essence, both of them fully caught up in the euphoria of sharing everything - their blood, their minds, their bodies, their souls - so that when the first tendrils of dark magic began to dance over their sweat-slicked bodies, neither of them gave it much thought. It was just another aspect of sex that they came to enjoy while not worrying about its meaning or its purpose - just another way for them to share themselves with each other.  
  
         When Severus broke the kiss, both of them were panting and the musky scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air around them. Reluctantly, Severus put a halt to his teasing ministrations on Harry's sensitive body. He gently wiped away a streak of red from the corner of Harry's mouth with his thumb, then said firmly, but not harshly, "Stand up."  
  
         In other circumstances, it would have been an order easily obeyed, but Harry's legs threatened to buckle beneath him the moment he put his weight on them, he was so weak-kneed and wobbly. His cock ached for release, weeping drops of precum, but Severus reacted quickly to Harry's thoughts of touching himself by clipping out another order.  
  
         "Take off your shirt, then bend over and put your hands on the table."  
  
         Harry did as he was told, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside, then bending forward and gripping the coffee table with both hands, his obedience tarnished only by a defiant, wicked smile as he wiggled his bottom tauntingly at the dark-eyed man behind him.  
  
         Severus smirked, eyes narrowing in fiendish delight as he took in the delicious sight of Harry's young, athletic body, from the smooth expanse of his back to the tempting mounds of his tight arse, down to those muscular thighs and shapely calves. He slowly rose to his feet and began to strip off his own clothing.  
  
         The rustle of clothing sent a quiver of anticipation through Harry, and he peeked over his shoulder as much as he could without taking his hands off the coffee table. He glimpsed his lover's pale chest and the light play of muscles beneath his skin, then he glanced up at Severus's face only to see Severus staring back at him with piercing black eyes. Harry felt hypnotized by those eyes, so much so that he didn't even realize Severus was moving until he felt the prod of his lover's cock against his arse.  
  
         The time for teasing had passed, Severus bypassing his usual torturous delays as he bluntly shoved his cock inch by inch into the eager body beneath him, pausing when he had filled Harry completely to trace his fingers down his spine, causing Harry to shiver, his inner muscles clenching around Severus's cock in the most delightful way. Leaning down to mould himself against Harry's back, Severus then set a relentless pace, staking his claim on his lover with each thrust.  
  
         Harry held on for dear life as his body was thoroughly ravaged, not sure what had pushed Severus to this level of debauchery but more than willing to go along for the ride. He was surprised, though, when Severus suddenly slowed to a few jerky thrusts, coming hard into Harry's arse as he bit down on Harry's shoulder to muffle his groan of pleasure.   
  
         _Wow, he must have been really close before he even started fucking me_ , Harry thought, forgetting that his mind still lay open and bare to the man slumped against him.  
  
         [Is that a complaint?] Severus's silent question lacked any sting, his words colored only by amusement as he slowly pulled out of Harry's come-slicked hole and grabbed Harry's left wrist, flipping Harry over and pushing him onto his back on the coffee table, then settling between his legs with a smirk. [I wouldn't want to leave you unsatisfied …]  
  
         "I'm not complaining - _ah!_ " Harry bucked his hips as his cock was engulfed in incredible wet heat, his own stamina sorely tested as Severus suckled him, his tongue swirling over the head of Harry's cock then down along the shaft, one hand wrapped around the portion of Harry not crammed into his mouth while the other squeezed and caressed Harry's bottom. It didn't take long for Harry to erupt in his own orgasm, the intensity of it sending him spiraling down into darkness for a time, only to have him wake to the feel of cool sheets against his bare skin.  
  
         _What the …_ Harry frowned and tried to sit up, but his body was too spent to respond. He sensed Severus coming out of the bathroom, his thoughts and emotions a whirling vortex of worry and confusion, and then a cool cloth was placed on Harry's forehead and he sighed in contentment. [That feels good.]  
  
         "What happened?" Severus cupped Harry's cheek, still unnerved by the way Harry had passed out.   
  
         Harry shrugged, then yawned. [I'm just … just tired,] he suggested drowsily, soothed by the unusual tenderness Severus was displaying. He felt very loved and cared for, so perhaps that was why he was able to dismiss the strange occurrence more readily than Severus. [It's nothing serious.]  
  
         "I suppose," Severus said, but he didn't look convinced. He leaned down and softly kissed Harry's bruised lips, his expression somewhat apologetic. "Get some sleep, then."  
  
         And Harry fell into the last dreamless slumber he would have for a long time.

 


	30. One More Reason To Hate Halloween

 

 

         _The asphalt was cold beneath his bare feet, stray rocks and pebbles digging into his skin as Harry walked down the empty street in his pajamas. Lampposts stood sentinel on each side of him, silent guardians watching over the peaceful community throughout the night, but Harry avoided the pools of light they produced on the dark street, keeping instead to the shadows in between. He looked up as he passed a street sign, catching sight of the name 'Willowbrooke Lane,' though this new piece of information did little to alleviate his confusion over where he was. The houses he passed as he walked down the street were tall and Victorian, stately structures that boasted of wealth and privilege, but each were decidedly Muggle - this was no wizarding community - and he took in the sights of sprinkler systems and kids' bicycles lying abandoned in the spacious front yards, the occasional automobile parked in the half-circle drives.  
  
         Still, even if none of the visual clues had been enough to convince Harry that no wizards lived nearby, the absolute lack of a strong magical presence in the area was more than enough to satisfy his curiosity. True, there was an undercurrent of natural magic, that pure energy that existed in every living thing, but none of the pulsing residual magic that blanketed an area where wizards lived and performed countless spells each day.  
  
         There was a chill in the air, a scent of impending snow, and Harry hugged himself to retain what little body heat remained trapped in his body. He wandered onto the grassy front lawn of a two-story home halfway down the block, less grand than the other houses but still an attractive property, painted white with blue shutters on the windows and a dark blue door with  the house number - 117  -  printed in white paint against the blue background. The grass was wet with dew beneath Harry's feet, but he hardly felt anything, struck suddenly by an aura of darkness permeating from inside the picturesque house. It drew him like a moth drawn to flame, and he walked up the cobblestone pathway right to the front door, where he realized it wasn't fully closed.  
  
         "They're just asking to be robbed," Harry murmured to himself, his words echoing in the silence, the deathly stillness of a slumbering community, without even the random barking of dogs or howling of cats to break the quietness surrounding him. He pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked inside, but conscientiously closed it behind him once he had crossed the threshold. He figured if he was going to trespass, he should at least do what little he could to prevent anyone else from doing the same.  
  
         _ Great logic _, he thought to himself with a wry grin, then looked around. This place looked so familiar  … the cozy, lived-in interior was a pleasing contrast to the sterile elegance of the exterior. Harry shook off the feeling of deja-vu that crept into his brain and went straight for the carpeted stairs, his focus guided by some unseen force as he was drawn step by step to the second level, noting absently that the carpet was a dark crimson that contrasted nicely with the off-white walls. Pictures covered the walls, mostly group portraits of a beaming family - a mother, a father, a young boy  and, as the pictures  progressed, an infant as well - and he was able to resist the pull to keep moving long enough to study the faces, in particular the dark-skinned woman holding the youngest child (not even a year old, by Harry's guess) and he realized this wasn't a human he was looking at - it was a Mori. An entire family of Mori. And the morwen … something was so familiar about her, those amber eyes and the mocha hue of her skin, a name dancing on the tip of Harry's tongue as he was abruptly ushered on, finding himself bypassing several rooms in favor of a room at the west end of the house, a small placard on the door announcing it as 'Dorian's Room' in childish scrawl.  
  
_          Willowbrooke Lane … 117 … Dorian … _Harry couldn't understand why it was so important for him to remember these snippets of information, but he kept repeating them in the back of his mind, hoping he wouldn't forget when …_ when what? _he wondered, but then it was gone and he shrugged, opening the door to come face to face with pitch blackness and a sickly sweet smell, tart and fruity. He took a few steps into the room and yelped in pain as something sharp bit into his foot. He backed up, looking down at the shattered glass he'd just cut himself on before limping over to the small, unoccupied bed so he could pull out the sliver of glass that had embedded itself into his heel._  
  
         Apple juice. _He identified the smell as he sat nursing his foot, and he looked around at the disarray of the room, the rumpled bedcovers, the spilled drink and broken glass, an overturned toy chest, and in the corner of the room there was a crib, as empty as the bed he sat on._  
  
 _"What happened here?" Alarm shot straight up Harry's spine, his heart rate accelerating. The posters of football players that papered the walls were ripped here and there, as if someone had taken out their frustrations on them, with scorch marks left behind by the worst of the vandalism.  A stuffed giraffe lay on its side just beside the bed, its head torn from its body in a similarly ruthless fashion. Harry stood up, careful not to get near the broken glass again, and sniffed at the wall. There. The scent of magic, and  the tingle of a recently cast spell that his Mori senses recognized as being exceedingly dark …_  
  
 _Before he could further analyze his findings, the unseen force was pushing him along again, urging him to approach the open closet where clothes and shoes had been strewn aside, leaving the wooden back of the closet bare to his view._  
  
 _"But I think should try to find out what happened here first," Harry tried to reason with the force that guided him, but he received no answer in response. He stretched out his hand as he walked into the closet, his fingers pressing against the wood, then sinking into shadow as a threshold opened at his touch. He took a step forward and -_  
  
         "Potter? Potter!"  
  
         Harry blinked, startled to find himself sitting next to Draco in Potions class. Draco was hissing in his ear for him to 'wake the hell up,' but not in time for him to escape Severus's sharp glance and disapproving frown.  
  
         "Piss off, Malfoy," was Harry's less-than-charitable muttered reply, though his anger had little to do with the annoyance of being paired off again with his once enemy, now reluctant ally. No, he was just disappointed to be awake. The dream, and all its importance, vanished from Harry's mind, like smoke escaping between his fingers as he tried to grasp at the meaning of the strange visions he'd been experiencing ever since the day the spirits went silent. He would dream of a house, and there were stairs and a child's room … but once he woke up, he couldn't remember any specific details. The dreams came at both night and day, creeping up on him whenever the latest attack of fatigue (which came often) would overwhelm him, though this was the first time it had happened during a class.  
  
         [Falling asleep in my class, Potter?] The amusement in Severus's voice didn't match the scowling expression he wore for the benefit of the rest of the class.  
  
         [I wouldn't dare,] Harry teased back, though they both knew it was a lie. He hadn't had much control over his sleep patterns lately, and Severus had forced him to join Aiya in the hospital wing for a thorough evaluation, but Mori physiology and all its mysteries were beyond Madam Pomfrey's skill and in the end she had grudgingly admitted that there was little she could do for either of them but give them additional nourishing potions and extract promises from both of them to come to her immediately if their conditions worsened.  
  
         [Perhaps you should skip tonight's festivities.] Severus bent over Harry's shoulder, seemingly disgusted with the half-chopped burdock root that had lost its freshness during Harry's daydream, remarking aloud, "You've waited too long to add this last ingredient, Potter. You'll have to do some quick thinking if you want to salvage the potion …" and he glanced over at Hermione, who sat across the row from Harry and was listening intently while trying to appear interested in her own simmering cauldron, "… and no helpful hints from your classmates this time, hmm?"  
  
         "Yes, sir," Harry choked out in feigned resentment, his tense shoulders and stiff posture indicating his displeasure at being singled out once again by his sharp-tongue professor, but in reality he was clawing for control as Severus's alluring scent and powerful presence swept over his senses. He asked permission to fetch an additional ingredient, which Severus allowed with a dismissive wave of his hand.  
  
         [If it was up to me, I'd skip Halloween altogether,] Harry continued their silent conversation while rummaging through the store room for the kelp that could rescue his potion,  
a tricky brew used to protect its drinker from most poisons. [It isn't exactly a happy day for me.]  
  
         His parents had been murdered on Halloween. Voldemort had irrevocably marked him on Halloween. He'd been sent to the Dursley's, deprived of the love and warmth of a real family, on Halloween. Yes, it was safe to say that Harry had little but contempt for October 31st, and this Halloween wasn't shaping up to be any better. A feeling of dread had descended on Harry as soon as he'd woken up that morning, and it only grew stronger as the day went on. His only hope was that 'The Plan' to get Aiya and Draco to hash things out that evening would proceed smoothly.  
  
         [As soon as this business with Aiya and Malfoy is finished, I'll duck out, okay?]  
  
         [Tell me again why you couldn't just talk to Aiya and persuade her to meet with Draco without all this subterfuge?] Severus eyed Harry's frantic work as he returned to his seat and tried to coax some moisture into the kelp (adding it when it was too dry would only cause another setback, but it really needed saltwater to get the kelp to the right consistency), a bemused smile flitting across Severus's lips before he hid it away again behind the customary sneer, walking towards the back of the classroom. [And why do I have to be included in your little plot?]  
  
         [Quit distracting me.] Frustrated with the lack of results, Harry took one last desperate step and bit down hard on his tongue, the sharp pain bringing tears to his eyes. Wiping away the tears carefully with the tip of his index finger, he then dabbed the salty moisture onto the kelp, ecstatic to see how quickly it absorbed the tears and achieved the perfect consistency, then threw it and the chopped burdock root into his cauldron. He'd done his best. He could only hope it would work.  
  
         [Creative, if a bit masochistic,] Severus commented dryly, but there was an undercurrent of admiration in his tone as he remarked on Harry's ingenuity. [Next time, use a weeping charm. If first year witches wanting to cry their way out of failing grades can master it, then surely you can too.]  
  
         [I like my way better,] Harry purred back, the stinging pain in his tongue lessening to a dull ache that he found oddly arousing - an inevitable side-effect of a sex life where the line between pain and pleasure had grown increasingly blurry - and he gave Severus a glimpse of the same scenario, slightly altered, [But I'll let you do the biting next time, if you'd prefer…]  
  
         He heard a thump and a throaty curse from somewhere near the back of the classroom, but he didn't bother to turn around like the rest of the class to see what had happened. Harry knew Severus well enough to know that direct eye contact at this point might end with him and Severus giving the entire seventh year Potions class a good show on top of Severus's desk, and he really wasn't into having an audience.  
  
         [You'll pay for that later.] The response came several minutes after Harry's cheeky comment, once Severus had safely ensconced himself behind his desk. Harry studiously kept his eyes on his potion for the rest of the class, pleased to see the murky concoction turn a light shade of green. He filled his vial and joined the throng of seventh years bringing their finished potions to Severus's desk, unable to hide his smirk as he proudly placed his with the others.  
  
         [Don't get too cocky, Potter. It's supposed to be a brighter shade of apple green…]  
  
         Harry readied himself to protest (it was his addition of the kelp that caused it to turn green at all, after flubbing the burdock root) but the word 'apple' stuck in his brain, and he dazedly walked away from the desk without another look at Severus, trying to work out why the word 'apple' troubled him so much.

 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *

  
         The one and only reason for Harry's new _covert_ operation to get Aiya and Draco alone in the same room together intruded on his thoughts as Harry got ready for the Halloween Feast.  
  
         [Do not panic,] Rauko began, disrupting the spiritless silence in Harry's mind with his sultry, melodic voice and of course sending Harry spiraling into the first stages of a nervous breakdown, not so much because he was worried about what Rauko was going to say, but because having Rauko in his mind was the last thing Harry wanted right before he went behind his back to reunite Draco and Aiya.  
  
         [Those words aren't exactly reassuring.] Harry deftly pushed all thoughts of the evening's activities to the back of his mind where he hoped they would be overlooked by the powerful Mori. He'd soon realized the folly of talking to Aiya beforehand about Draco since he knew Rauko kept such a close watch on Aiya that he was sure to interfere, so he'd drawn up a new plan from scratch, one that would throw Aiya and Draco into each other's company as if by accident. He hadn't counted on having a friendly chat with Rauko right before he would be setting 'The Plan' into motion, but he tried not to give himself away. So far, Rauko was only talking to him, not doing his freaky 'mind-scan' thing like he had the first time they'd met, so Harry felt reasonably safe from suspicion.  
  
         [I suppose you have noticed how very … _quiet_ … it has been lately. This is a bad omen, a sign from the spirits that great tragedy is at hand.]  
  
         Harry shivered, quickly shrugging into his dress robes. He couldn't decide whether to be relieved or terrified that Rauko was confirming the presence of some very bad vibes lingering in the air, but he was a little miffed that the spirits had taken a vacation right when their insight was needed most.  
  
         Rauko seemed to pick up on Harry's bitter thoughts. [Their silence is not of their own choice, Harry. Whatever fate lies ahead for the Mori, it is a destiny we cannot escape, and so the spirits fall silent, sorrowed by their inability to bring us aid. But we are not blind to the future. There are those of us with the gift of Sight, but seeing and understanding are two different things. Your sister, for one, can see much with her cards, but she relies heavily on the spirits to interpret what she discovers. Others look to runes, some to dreams …]  
  
         Harry jerked, roughly pulled into a waking vision of off-white walls and crimson-carpeted stairs, but then just as suddenly found himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his eyes wide and frightened, two gleaming gems of jade.  
  
         [Ahh … you have had visions, yes?]  
  
         [I don't remember much … just a house with stairs … and then a room.]  
  
         _… long, smoldering gouges scarring the ruddy, handsome face of a muggle football star; shards of broken glass and the thick aroma of apples; a chest of toys turned over on its side, the lid partially torn from its hinges …_  
  
         Harry's scar began to itch and he rubbed at it absently. [A kid's room, I think. A boy. It looked like someone had ransacked it, searching for something.]  
  
         [Or someone.] There was a distinct chill to Rauko's presence now, the cold and calculating 'demon' emerging from the warmth of his usual manipulative charm. For some reason, Harry found this change comforting instead of frightening. [If you remember anything else, contact me immediately. I do not expect a fledgling such as you to have complete control over your visions, so the memory of your dreams has most likely been blurred and fuzzy at best, correct? But bits and pieces may come back to you … it is important, Harry, that you tell me if you remember _anything_ else. I will warn the others of the possible danger, but there are some who refuse to abandon their homes for the Underground.]  
  
         [No one else has seen anything?] Harry hated having the full weight of the burden of protecting the Mori people settled on his shoulders like that.  
  
         [Those with Sight are disoriented by the silence of the spirits. They see only vague shapes and shadows. Those who walk with Raven, however, have seen one thing quite clearly ...]  
  
         Harry blinked, almost positive that he'd felt a ghostly caress over his stomach, and he quickly glanced around to see if Severus had somehow tiptoed into the bathroom without him realizing it, but he was alone …. _well, except for the pesky voice in my head_ , he thought with a good-natured grin. He was very interested in what those with Raven as their familiar had been seeing, since it might help him to understand his own visions. [What? What do they see?]  
  
         [You.]  
  
         The hairbrush Harry had picked up in order to tame his unruly locks clattered to the floor, forgotten, as Harry stared again at his wide-eyed reflection. [ _Me_?]  
  
         [You are unique among us, Harry.] Rauko's voice had softened, all the icy aggression melting away, the deep rumble of his words coaxing Harry out of his alarm and lulling him into a relaxed state of mind. [You are the future of the Mori.]  
  
         Harry exhaled slowly, his new-found tranquility lasting only long enough for him to realize that he was staring at the mirror with such a dopey smile on his face that he knew his sudden euphoria was completely manufactured by Rauko's hypnotic voice. [Hey, no fair using the Mori mind-trick on me.]  
  
         Rich, husky laughter tumbled through his brain and prompted a sincere smile to curve Harry's lips.  
  
         [I have not heard it described in such a way before … but I will do my best to behave. My ways were set long ago, and it is hard to change them.]  
  
         Harry bent down to pick up his brush, gritting his teeth against the sudden dizziness that action induced, but once it passed, he easily steadied himself against the sink with one hand while running the brush through his hair with the other. [I understand,] he reassured him, though he doubted he could ever truly understand Rauko and his many eccentricities. [Severus is the same way.]  
  
         A flicker of mirth danced in Harry's mind, amusement that was not his own, and he could have sworn he felt a second caress over his stomach - not even remotely sexual, but gentle and protective.  
  
         [You two have grown quite close, yes?] There was something smug and self-satisfied that crept into Rauko's voice as he remarked on the relationship, but then he was quickly changing the subject, moving to wrap up their conversation. [Give my regards to Severus - and please, watch over Aiya. She is suffering now, but I hope to see her recover in time.]  
  
         Harry fought the urge to think about Aiya, knowing it would turn his thoughts to Draco and 'The Plan' as well. [I'll take care of her. And I'll let you know if I remember anything else.] He felt Rauko's presence begin to fade from his mind, but a nagging thought surfaced and Harry found himself asking hurriedly, [Rauko? I haven't had a chance to ask Aiya, but maybe you know. See, I picked up one of Aiya's cards and … well, what does a seahorse represent? In a reading, I mean …]  
  
         There was silence, and Harry wondered if he'd asked too late, but then a surge of pure undiluted joy filled his mind, taking his breath away. When Rauko did speak, it was not to answer Harry's question, but to make the promise of an explanation in the future …  
  
         [We must have our talk, Harry, and soon. Very soon. Once this threat has passed, I will tell you all you wish to know about the seahorse and what it means for you. Until that time, take care of yourself. You are quite precious to us, Harry, and I will not take the chance of anything happening to you.]  
  
         [Err … yeah, I'll be careful.] Harry was still reeling from the intensity of Rauko's emotional outpouring, and he drew what comfort he could from the indication that whatever the seahorse meant, it made Rauko very happy. Had he been in a more cynical mood, he might have been more suspicious of the Mori leader's extreme felicity, but as it was he said his farewells with the uplifting confidence that he'd won one over on Rauko by keeping 'The Plan' secret during their entire conversation.

 

 

 

*     *     *     *     *

 

  
         "Could you stop referring to it as 'The Plan,' please?" Ron griped as he helped himself to the half-finished pumpkin roll on Harry's plate. "I can actually hear the capital letters when you say it."  
  
         Harry glowered at him, then gagged and quickly looked away from the sight of the sweet pastry Ron was currently devouring. He had managed to force down a few bites of his own food before the slow churn of nausea kicked in, but the majority of his meal had found its way into Ron's stomach instead of his own. _Nausea, fatigue, dizzy spells …_ _maybe I am coming down with something_ , he thought to himself, nervously chewing on his fingernails, unaware of the concerned looks that passed between his two best friends as they sat next to him. _Maybe Aiya's sickness doesn't have anything to do with Malfoy. Maybe we both have some weird Mori disease. Maybe …_  
  
         [Quit biting your nails. It's a nasty habit.] Aiya's teasing voice, weak but lighthearted, interrupted Harry's latest 'freak-out of the moment,' and he glanced across the vividly-decorated Great Hall to where Aiya stood with Severus and Professor Sprout, acting as chaperones now that the evening's meal had progressed into a typical school dance - well, as typical as it could be with ghosts twirling about overhead and enchanted pumpkins gabbing cheerily with the students who sat at the small tables set up along the walls of the room, leaving the center open for anyone inclined to dance.  
  
         [So says the morwen who cracks her knuckles non-stop and always has her elbows on the table,] he responded just as playfully.  
  
         [You look a little green. Are you okay?]  
  
         Harry gave her a lopsided grin and a brief nod, then turned away before Severus looked his way as well and decided to hustle Harry off to bed before he could set 'The Plan' - _err, the plan_ , he modified even in his own mind,in deference to Ron's critique - into motion. His main objective would be to stage a confrontation with Draco that would end with both of them being dragged out of the room by one of the chaperones. Harry had already roped Severus into being the one who took hold of Draco, while Aiya would naturally be the one to grab Harry, but instead of Severus taking Draco back to the dungeons, he would take him to Aiya's room where Harry would be waiting with Aiya, and _voila_! Draco and Aiya, reunited. It was simple and foolproof, Harry decided, and he couldn't wait for it to be over with so he could go to sleep.  
  
         "Target sighted," Ron muttered, drawing Harry's attention to the flash of blue that announced Draco's emergence from the tight ring of Slytherins that usually surrounded him, a scowling but determined Pansy following him as the two argued over something. Draco's dress robes were a silvery blue, enhancing the rain-cloud gray of his eyes, and Harry inwardly applauded the choice. Blue was Aiya's favorite color, a slice of information that Harry had reluctantly divulged to Draco just the other day. Surprisingly, Draco had known a few things of his own that he'd disclosed to Harry with a defensive snarl, as if wanting to prove he knew just as many of Aiya's secrets as Harry, revealing many things that Harry hadn't even guessed at, such as Aiya's allergy to unicorns and the sweet little mewl she made when having her hair stroked and played with (there had been threats of violence from Harry upon hearing _that_ one).  
  
          _If he starts calling her 'kitten' like his old man, then I'm really going to have to kill him_ , Harry thought sullenly, then forced himself to stay focused. First, he needed to separate the two bickering Slytherins. He sent his shadows on a malicious mission to trip Pansy, sending her sprawling to the floor, then used the same misty entities to tug Draco away, not that he needed much encouragement to distance himself from the cursing girl, not looking back even once as he blithely ignored Pansy's pleas for him to help her up..  
  
         "Chivalry isn't just dead, it's decomposing," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.  
  
         "Hey, Malfoy being a bastard is working in our favor this time, so don't knock it." Ron couldn't hide his amusement at watching a red-faced Pansy hurl obscenities after Draco before she got to her feet and headed off to a corner of the Great Hall to pout.  
  
         Harry beckoned his shadows back to him, having felt oddly vulnerable during the short time they had left his side. They curled around him protectively, most of them encircling his waist and abdomen, but his distress continued unabated. His scar, which had never stopped itching since his brief talk with Rauko, now began to burn, faintly at first, then blossoming into a full-blown ache as strange thoughts filled his head … voices, not his own and not the spirits, whispered of unlit windows and slumbering households, evolving into discussions of who to send and what to anticipate, someone stressing the importance of 'alive, not dead' and the loudest thought of all being _soon, soon, soon_ …  
  
         "It's going to happen soon," Harry murmured, rubbing at his scar, hoping to massage the pain away. Voldemort's followers were definitely on the move - but what was their plan?  
  
         "I certainly hope so. This party could use a good fistfight," Ron said with wide blue eyes and a grin, mistaking Harry's comment for a heads-up that the fake skirmish was about to begin.  
  
         Hermione sighed at her boyfriend's childish enthusiasm for the upcoming fight, regardless of the fact that the whole thing would be completely fabricated. "Put your eyes back in your sockets, Ron. I swear, you look just like Dobby did when I showed him those old rainbow-colored toe-socks that Ginny was going to throw away."  
  
         Harry forced a laugh through his confusion, an image of floppy-eared Dobby's bulging green eyes growing wide with longing as he drooled over the pair of socks momentarily eclipsing the strange voices in his head, but then it was as if something shifted in his brain and he was thinking clearly for the first time in weeks - the puzzling article in the Quibbler, the visions of a house that had been broken into and ransacked - everything fit together and finally made sense.  
  
         _… childlike creatures with bat-like ears and bulging eyes … creatures that only looked, but never harmed anyone … creatures that would vanish into thin air …_  
  
         "House-elves." Harry stood up shakily, pressing one hand over his scar while the other clutched at his stomach, not sure if he was going to pass out or puke. How could he have missed it before? He should have been suspicious right away, especially after that discussion with Dobby of how he'd known Harry was a Mori. "They're using house-elves. And tonight … _soon_ … oh gods, they've found an entire family …"  
  
         "Harry?" Ron jumped to his feet, followed by Hermione, but Harry was weaving his way through the couples dancing in the center of the room, trying to make his way to Aiya and Severus before the pain in his head made it impossible to talk.  
  
         _Willow … Willowbrooke … large white house, blue door … quiet, so horribly quiet … the vacant black eyes of the stuffed giraffe, its head ripped from its body … the dark-skinned morwen with the beautiful smile, her amber eyes full of laughter … Dorian … Dorian's room … the glass, the glass slicing into his foot … the pain, the pain, the pain …_  
  
         "Where do you think you're going, Potter?" Draco had taken Harry's trek across the dance floor as an indication that their scheduled fight was about to begin. He shoved Harry back when he tried to sidestep him. "You and I have unfinished business."  
  
         The heart-stopping terror of being startled awake by a sudden burst of light filled Harry's mind, though the fear was forced on him from some other source, in much the same way he'd suffered Aiya's fear after she'd turned feral and attacked Kingsley. He felt Aiya's presence flare up inside his mind as well, but then fade away, and he heard faint gasps of surprise from somewhere to his right.  
  
         [Rauko … I remember … _Dorian_ … it was Dorian's room I saw … Willowbrooke …] Harry tried to push his thoughts out into the distance, to reach Rauko through the haze clouding his mind, but eventually he caved in to the overwhelming emotions pouring into him from far away ...  
  
         ... from that picturesque house on Willowbrooke Lane.  
  
         "Potter?" Draco backed away a step, clearly unsettled by the wildness of Harry's jade eyes and the tremble that overtook his body.  
  
         _… white-hot light, burning him, forcing him into submission, but no - he would fight, he would not give in, he must think of his children - but his shadows gave way, one after the other, with her screams in his ears and the wail of the baby down the hall in Dorian's room,_ [hide, Dorian, hide], _he managed to throw one of them against the wall, pinning him there for an instant, but then came the sun-spell, the shadow-killer, and his skin was on fire, leaving only enough time for one last command,_ [take your sister and hide], _and the angry voices buzzing around him grew dim, his body consumed in the flames of the spell, until at last -_  
  
         Harry jerked, the thoughts and sensations of his waking vision ending abruptly, as if he were back at the Dursley's watching the telly and the power had just gone out, the screen going blank. He stared at Draco's pale face, saw his mouth open and close but couldn't make sense of the words, then felt a familiar presence approach from behind, his shoulders gripped by two powerful but gentle hands, and he finally felt free to surrender to the darkness that awaited him. His last words before he fell unconscious were husky with unshed tears …  
  
         "They killed him."

 


	31. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture and suicide

 

         Harry's next conscious thought was that someone had lit one too many candles in the Great Hall. The room around him was swimming with bright light, so much so that Harry had to raise one arm over his face to shield his eyes from the glare. He realized he was propped up against a cracked and crumbling wall, its peeling mustard-yellow paint tugging at Harry's memories. He wasn't sure where he was, or how he got there, but he definitely knew this was not Hogwarts.  
  
         Shadows flitted back and forth along the walls, cowering away from the dazzling light that emanated from the center of the room, some even taking refuge under a pile of soggy wood that lay in the crumbling fireplace a few feet from Harry. The musty smell of old, rotting wood lingered in the stale air, but there were no windows for Harry to open that would let in a fresh breeze or allow him to escape. A door to his left was guarded by a tall figure cloaked in black, the hood raised in such a way to make it impossible for Harry to tell who it was, but he had seen dark-robed figures before and no one pleasant was ever hidden beneath those layers of fabric.  
  
         _This isn't real … this can't be real_ , he told himself as he struggled to his feet. He looked down and saw that he could see the planks of the floorboards through his own hands, his entire being just a transparent manifestation of his body. Apparently he was having another vision, though this one felt different than the dreams of the past few days. He felt somehow detached from this place; sight and smell seemed to be working fine, but the sensation of walking across the creaking floorboards felt more like floating to Harry. In his dreams of Willowbrooke Lane, it had been quite the opposite - the dewy grass beneath his feet, the stinging pain of the glass cutting his foot - it had all felt quite real to him. What he was experiencing now felt more like when he dreamed of ….  
  
         _No, no, no_ , Harry thought, even more horrified when he realized that shutting his eyes didn't block out the scene in front of him, further convincing him of the true nature of his current dream. First a vision of an unknown Mori male being immolated by some Death Eater's spell - now he had to suffer through a vision of Voldemort as well?  
  
         No sign of the dark wizard yet, but that was hardly comforting for Harry as he tried to get his bearings. The manufactured light that filled the room didn't cause him pain or make him sick like it would have had he been there in person, but it was still disorienting and made it difficult to get a good look at the rest of his surroundings. There was a shadow trapped in the center of all that radiance, a core of darkness that twitched and swayed within the column of light, and Harry slowly crept towards it, inching his way forward until he could plainly make out the petite body of a morwen, naked and bleeding from a wound to the temple, hanging suspended in the air from chains that were cuffed to her wrists. Her dark skin had fooled him into believing her nothing more than a shadow, but now Harry could see that this was the same morwen from the pictures in the house on Willowbrooke Lane. Even worse, he could remember where he'd seen her before …  
  
         _… standing next to Aiya, one arm slung around the taller morwen's shoulders, an infectious grin on her lips and a warm glint in her deep amber eyes as she posed for the camera. Callandra Warsong Lennox. Callie. Aiya's best friend. Married to a 'turned' Mori and living in muggle London …_  
  
         _Her husband … he's the one that …_ Harry shuddered, not wanting to remember those last moments of consciousness before he'd awakened in this nightmare. He had witnessed death before - how could he forget Cedric's blank, lifeless stare? - but this time he had been forced to feel and hear and endure the violent death of a Mori, of someone connected to him through the network of minds that existed among the telepathic creatures, and it had affected him in much the same way as when he'd relived his parents' deaths through the Dementors. The agonizing intimacy of it was not something Harry ever wanted to feel again, but he was beginning to doubt he'd have much say in the matter.  
  
         The lids of her eyes were swollen from crying, but Callie managed to open them to reveal slits of burnished gold as she felt Harry's presence, her gaze frantically darting from side to side but seeing nothing, and a startled gurgling sound erupted from her throat before she realized who and what he was. [Who are you?] He felt her briefly sift through his thoughts, merely a gentle brush of her mind against his, but enough for her to glean his identity. He was too frazzled to put up any kind of resistance, even if he'd wanted to.  
  
         [ … you are … Aiya's fledgling. Why are you here?] What once must have been an enchanting, honey-tinged voice now wrenched at Harry's heart with its hollowness. Her mindspeak was distant and broken at times, her ability to concentrate severely impaired by the blinding light as well as her own heartbreak, and her anguish would sometimes intrude on her speech at odd moments, long strings of mashed-up thoughts that revealed the immeasurable damage done to her barriers.  
  
         [I don't understand … how did you find me here? Are my children …] _notdeadnotdeadtheyaresafebutohAndrew_ [ … still hidden? The light … is a prison … it burns me ..] _nothingnothingIreachforhimbutnothingheisgoneAndrew_ [… there is nothing … you can do for me … but my children …] _findthemDorianMelonymylittleones_ [… they are …]  
  
         "… alone and frightened …"  
  
         The last phrase emerged from Callie's dry, cracked lips, though Harry doubted she realized she'd spoken aloud. Her words roused the dark figure from its vigil by the door, and Harry had only a moment to prepare before the hood was thrown back to reveal the same pale-blond hair and icy grey eyes of his longtime rival, though the aristocratic face was that of an older man.  
  
         _Lucius_ , Harry thought, and the name must have carried to Callie's mind as well. She fought against the restraints cutting into her wrists, her emotions flooding Harry as she lost control and slipped into a feral state, hissing and snarling at the Death Eater who approached her.  
  
         [You know who he is?] Harry asked, though it wasn't easy to force his way back into Callie's mind now that she had turned feral. Once he'd planted himself back in her thoughts, he felt her presence wrap around him, clinging to him out of desperation and fear, forming a bond between them that would have taken months, maybe years, to develop under normal circumstances.  
  
         [… this one … once hurt Aiya.] Callie answered brokenly, though it was more like she stabbed Harry's brain with each hate-drenched word, making him regret asking the question in the first place, especially when she added in a menacing hiss, [… his spell … killed Andrew.]  
  
         So Lucius had been the one to cast the 'sun-spell' that killed her husband - perhaps the same _Solis Invictus_ that Draco had used against Harry several weeks ago. Harry shared in Callie's hate, shared in her sorrow, their minds linked so tightly now that he could feel a crushing tightness in his wrists, a growing ache in his upper arms and the warm trickle of blood down the side of his face, experiencing her wounds as if they were his own.  
  
         "Ahh, you are awake," Lucius said in the same cool, cultured tone of voice that he used for Ministry meetings and social calls, a cruel smile curving his lips as he titled Callie's chin upwards with one leather-gloved hand, as if to touch her with his bare skin would be to soil himself. Ignoring her vicious glare and threatening growls, he tilted her face this way and that, studying her, though Harry wasn't sure what Lucius was looking for. "A half-breed, I see. And no high pedigree to counteract the contamination, as I have seen in another of your kind. Was it your mother or your father who started life as a detestable muggle? I take it you inherited the same vulgar desire for such inferior creatures, judging by your choice of husband - how recently had he been turned? Five years ago? Ten at the most?"  
  
         "My husband …" _riphisthroatoutmakehimbleedwewilldrainhimdry_ "… is worth more …" _drownhiminshadowsletthedarknessfeedonhim_ "… than a thousand of your kind …" The words were Callie's, forced out with all the venom she could muster, but the underlying thoughts were a mesh of her own murderous intentions and the same feelings mirrored in Harry, so that any self-reference turned from 'I' to 'we.'  
  
         Lucius only smirked, releasing Callie's chin with a rough shake. " _Was_. Your husband _was_ , you mean. Now he is nothing but ash."  
  
         Callie screamed her anger and frustration, the sound resounding ten times louder in Harry's aching head, but he had become too firmly entrenched in her thoughts to distance himself from her pain and despair now. In a way, he felt it was the only way he could help her - to let her know that she was not alone, that someone would be there by her side through everything - and yet it was not nearly enough.  
  
         _If I'd just figured everything out sooner_ , he thought. _This is my fault …_  
  
         "… not your fault … _toror'amin_ ," Callie whispered, her voice hoarse and scratchy.  
  
         Those cold grey eyes narrowed in suspicion as Lucius overheard the morwen's gentle reassurance to Harry, clearly confused as to why Callie would say such a thing. He grabbed a handful of her thick dark hair, yanking her head back so she was forced to look up into his eyes. "Who are you talking to?"  
  
         The soft click of the door opening spared Callie from answering, several Death Eaters entering the room with a triumphant Voldemort leading the way. Harry's scar burned and Callie jerked in response, the strange bond between them working both ways. Harry recognized several of the people assembled - Bellatrix had entered just behind Voldemort, then the Lestrange brothers, Rodolphus and Rabastan - but the other three were unfamiliar, and Harry cringed inwardly to think that Voldemort's ranks were growing. He memorized the faces so he could describe them to Severus and Dumbledore later.  
  
         "Is she suitable?"  
  
         "She is tainted, but useable." Lucius gave another painful yank of Callie's hair before letting go and stepping aside.  
  
         Voldemort circled the struggling morwen with a predatory gleam in his crimson eyes. "It is a pity you had to kill the male. A female will bring us only one child at a time, perhaps two if we are lucky, but a male could impregnate several females at once. It would be more efficient. They are excellent breeders, these Mori - they've had to be, in order to survive. Take our lovely guest, for instance …" he bared his teeth in a disturbing imitation of a smile, "… you have two children, have you not, Mrs. Lennox?"  
  
         Callie glared at him, her lips pressed into a tight line as she kept her silence. Bellatrix growled and moved forward as if to strike Callie for her insolence, but Voldemort stopped her with a single dismissive wave of his hand, and Bellatrix obediently backed down.  
  
         "A boy and a girl, my lord," Lucius supplied when Callie refused to answer. "She has hidden them well."  
  
         Voldemort rested his crimson gaze dispassionately on Callie, then he gave a short flick of his wand and the light that imprisoned Callie grew brighter, practically sizzling against her skin as she screamed in response. Even the Death Eaters in the room were forced to back away from the harsh glare. Harry gritted his teeth against the pain rolling off of Callie, suffering mentally what she was suffering physically.  
  
         "Where are your children, Mrs. Lennox?" Voldemort had abandoned his calm, conversational tone for a demanding rasp, allowing a brief respite in the intensity of the light to give Callie a chance to confess, but she only gasped for air, steadfast in her defiance of the wizard who had ordered the attack on her family.  
  
         "I must warn you, Mrs. Lennox," Voldemort continued on, another flick of his wand resuming her torture by scorching light, "the last overprotective mother to defy me ended up dead."  
  
         [ _Bastard_ ,] Harry hissed, thoughts of his mother and her death at Voldemort's hands flowing through his mind - and therefore, through Callie's as well - but it was left to Callie to exact some vengeance for the remark as she fought off her agony long enough to choke out, "And then… she defeated you … with her sacrifice …"  
  
         An expression of surprise, then fury, spread across the dark wizard's face, and in the next instant he had backhanded her, striking her so hard that Harry felt Callie lose consciousness for several seconds, her presence fading in and out of his mind like a flickering light bulb.  
  
         "How did she - " one of the unidentified Death Eaters began softly but was quickly silenced by a look from Bellatrix. No doubt they were all puzzling over Callie's uncanny response to Voldemort's taunt, but now that the Dark Lord's temper had been roused, it was dangerous to draw his attention with foolish questions.  
  
         "You _will_ tell me where your children are," Voldemort's words were stilted but controlled, his bony fingers tightly clenched around his wand. "In fact, I think you will be quite cooperative by this evening's end … and your children will belong to me."  
  
         _The spell … he's going to use the binding spell that Lucius used on Aiya_. Binding Callie would mean also binding those born of her blood - Dorian and his little sister. It was hardly surprising to Harry, but confronted with the reality of two innocent children becoming virtual slaves to Voldemort - well, it was too horrific for him to wrap his mind around.  
  
         [Harry …]  
  
         It was Callie's voice in his head, but different - calm, resigned, almost relieved.  
  
         [There isn't … much time. The pain … overshadows everything … makes it hard … to speak to you … this way. You have to … find my children … please, Harry … When I am gone … they will need you.]  
  
         Harry could feel Callie gently untangling herself from him, slowly, methodically freeing him from the symbiotic bond that had developed between them in such a short time. He tried to stop her, tried to anchor himself in her mind and prevent her from shutting him out, but what few barriers remained in her mind were firmly locked in place, leaving only that vague underlying connection that existed between all the Mori. Inwardly, Harry was panicking. He wasn't sure how she was going to manage it, but Harry had grasped one last thought from Callie before she severed their connection - _Callie meant to kill herself._  
  
         "I look forward to owning such loyalty and devotion," Voldemort was saying, all the other Death Eaters gathered in a half-circle behind him to watch the binding performed, except for Lucius who stood off to the side, a pleased smile playing about his lips.  
  
         "Tell my children … I love them," Callie said, startling everyone but Harry who stood, unseen, by her side. Large, angry blisters had formed on Callie's skin from where the light had seared her flesh, her lips cracked open and bleeding now, but not once did she ask for mercy. Her strength amazed Harry, and he refused to allow such strength to die if he could help it.  
  
         [There has to be a way, Callie! I can save you, I know I can!] His voice beat against her barriers, begging to be heard, but she only closed her eyes, surrendering to the pain and to a fate she had already chosen for herself from the moment she'd been captured, though Harry hadn't understood until now.  
  
         "This is … the only way …" she whispered.  
  
         Bellatrix's throaty cackle fueled the rage in Harry as she mocked Callie, "Only a little light and she's already out of her mind from the pain. Listen to her babble …" and the other Death Eaters laughed as well.  
  
         Lucius, however, did not share in the amusement, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to Callie. "My lord, I think she is - "  
  
         But then Callie, forgetting in the dark haze of pain that she spoke aloud, asked one last favor of Harry, "Don't let Aiya … blame herself …"  
  
         " _What_?" Lucius seemed to forget that anyone else was in the room as he closed the distance to where Callie hung, gripping her throat in one hand as he shook her violently, overly zealous in his demand for answers. "What did you just say? That name …."  
  
         "Lucius!" There was a definite reprimand in Voldemort's tone as he reclaimed Lucius's attention, and he reluctantly let go of Callie, but to Harry's mind the damage had already been done. How many others named Aiya could there be among the Mori? And calling Aiya's 'death' at Hogwarts into question might also cast further suspicion on the person who'd been her closest friend while at school there …  
  
         "Don't look … don't look …" Callie said, bowing her head against her chest as her words slurred together, and one might guess she was talking to herself this time, but Harry heard the concern in her strangled voice and knew she was telling him not to watch her die. It was the one command he found impossible to obey, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of this amazingly brave woman who was about to lay down her life for the safety of her children. It drove home the strength and courage and love that had existed inside of Lily Potter, another mother unwilling to allow harm to come to her child if she could in any way, even with her own death, prevent it. Never had he felt so helpless as he did now, and hot tears of rage and sorrow coursed over his cheeks without Harry even realizing he was crying.  
  
         "Rodolphus," Voldemort clipped out, gesturing to the Death Eater standing next to Bellatrix, "raise her head. I want to see her eyes as I claim her." The man half-bowed, crossing the room to stand behind Callie, grasping a handful of her hair and pulling back sharply. Callie's eyes opened reflexively, the amber depths riddled with pain … but also something deeper and darker …  
  
         " _Oirahuine ... faina amin_ ," she whispered, staring straight at Voldemort as she spoke, and there was a brief flash of pain in Harry's head as that tenuous connection between his mind and Callie's, that most basic link that joined all the Mori into one extended network of minds, suddenly snapped and her presence faded completely from his awareness, as if in that one instant she had died to him in all the ways that truly mattered. That he could still see her, still hear the sound of her labored breathing, seemed like an illusion.  
  
         "Quiet her, Rodolphus," Voldemort hissed, and the Death Eater reached around as if to muffle Callie's mouth with his hand, but she dodged his fingers and sank her teeth into his wrist, drawing a stream of blood with the force of her vicious bite, and Rodolphus stumbled back with a howl, clutching at his bleeding wrist.  
  
         " _Oirame'a ... vasa amin_." The last words of the mysterious spell lingered in the air after Callie spoke them,  a curious hush descending over the room broken only by the bitter curses of the wounded Rodolphus, and then the dazzling light that had held Callie hostage all this time began to wrap itself around her body, setting her skin on fire, consuming her as if she were kindling. The stomach-turning stench of burnt hair and melting flesh filled the small room, Rodolphus still standing close enough to Callie's body to set his own robes on fire. Amidst the fear and confusion among the Death Eaters, Harry could distantly hear Voldemort barking orders to put out the flames, but the same charms that saved Rodolphus's robes had little effect on the fire eating away at Callie's flesh.  
  
         Harry stood, transfixed with shock and revulsion, as Callie's body was completely ravaged by the white-hot flames, her charred wrist bones snapping and sending her body plunging to the floor with a sickening thud. He wanted to believe that this was just another nightmare, and that he would wake up and find that the entire day was just a bad dream. In his rejection of the awfulness of Callie's fate, he began to back away, shaking his head in denial. Suddenly, a fresh stab of pain sliced through his head and he curled up into himself, rocking back and forth as he rode out the torturous wave.  
  
         " _Potter_."  
  
         His head snapped up at the sound of his name spoken in the chilling rasp of Voldemort's voice, and he realized the pain he felt was his scar - and that, though the Death Eaters were still circling the corpse of the morwen, containing the fire within a magical barrier, Voldemort was distracted, his crimson eyes scanning the room as if searching for the young man who had proved so hard to kill over the years.  
  
         The relentless force of Voldemort's mind suddenly bore down on him, giving Harry only a second or two to raise his barriers in time to block the wizard's unspoken _Legilimens_. His shields were shaky, weakened by the trauma he'd suffered as well as the energy he'd put into the bond with Callie, and he could feel them waver under the onslaught of Voldemort's more experienced Legilimency. His fragile barriers began to fracture under the pressure - in no time they would surely give way completely - and in his desperation he lashed out with the only defense he knew to work against a determined Legilimens ...  
  
         " _Amin naa ungue_!" he cried out, and all the horror and pain and despair of the past hours melted away into nothingness, Voldemort's spell passing harmlessly through him as the room around him grew blurry, his last sight before returning to the sweet embrace of darkness being the smoldering heap of ash and bones only a few feet away, all that remained of Callie Lennox.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
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> **Solis Invictus** \- means "Invincible Sun" and is a spell used to severely wound or kill a Mori  
>  **Toror'amin** \- Elvish for 'my brother.' Though Aiya calls Harry toror'amin in the literal sense, Callie uses it here as a general affectionate term, as is the custom between Mori who have close ties but are not connected by bloodline.  
>  **Oirahuine … faina amin. Oirame'a … vasa amin.** \- this Elvish spell is considered a spell of last resort among the Mori. It translates to 'Eternal Darkness … release me. Eternal Light … consume me.' (A further explanation of this spell will come in subsequent chapters)  
>  **Amin naa ungue** \- an Elvish spell that literally means 'I am hollow' and drains the Mori who casts it of all thought and emotion. Often used to avoid interrogation by an enemy.


	32. As The Smoke Cleared

 

         Inspector Julian Thorpe watched as the body bag carrying the charred and blackened remains of Andrew Lennox was placed on a stretcher and shoved into the back of the ambulance. He observed the vehicle's unhurried pace as it carefully eased out onto Willowbrooke Lane, no flashing lights or sirens accompanying its departure - no such fanfare was needed to transport a corpse.  
  
         "Be sure to have one of our people meet them at the morgue," Julian ordered his assistant who stood next to him, though the spoken command was merely for show as they both knew that the officer would fulfill this duty himself to ensure there would be no slip-ups. The man nodded his head, starting to walk away only to lay a comforting hand on his superior's shoulder, the two exchanging a meaningful glance before the officer got into his car and took off after the ambulance.  
  
         Julian ran a hand through his unkempt brown hair, fighting off a throbbing headache as he ventured back inside the Lennox home, empty now, though only an hour ago it had been bustling with police and crime scene experts, all trying to discover what had killed the once-famous musician who'd lived there with his wife and two children, all three now mysteriously missing. The downstairs living areas were untouched - no ransacking, no looting - but as soon as Julian began the ascent to the second floor, the acrid stench of burnt flesh assaulted his nose.   
  
         The detective's eyes, luminous and tawny, narrowed as he paused on the second-floor landing, a gathering of energy amassing itself in close proximity to where he stood, giving him only a moment's notice before a silky voice interrupted the morbid stillness of the house.  
  
         "Have you found them yet?" Indigo eyes peered out of the shadows at Julian.  
  
         "No." Julian bypassed the dark-clad figure and entered the master bedroom, shrugging out of the jacket of his rumpled suit and tossing it onto a nearby chair with an irritated growl, revealing the shoulder holster where he carried his gun. It was only at times like these, with his emotions running high and his temper on a short leash, that he detested human clothing so much. He knelt down beside the scorch marks next to the bed, the black stains indicating where the body had been discovered. Bending down, Julian sniffed at the thin layer of ash that remained behind, fighting the urge to vomit as he quickly raised his head. " _Solis Invictus_ , but not pure."  
  
         "Even a tainted sun-spell can kill if it strikes the chest or the head," came the clinical reply, though the coldness of the other man's tone indicated a forced distancing from his emotions, as if this person had seen so much death and carnage over the years that he could fully separate himself from the situation, regardless of personal attachment to the victim.   
  
         Julian, on the other hand, could not detach himself from the tragedy so easily. He remained crouched beside the spot where Andrew Lennox had breathed his last breath, the golden hue of his eyes shifting from its normally tawny shade to a feral cat's-eye yellow that glowed in the darkness of the bedroom. His voice, when he finally spoke, was little more than an animal's vicious snarl, "He was outnumbered … outmatched … and the cowards killed him for trying to protect his family."  
  
         Rauko stepped free of the shadows, fully revealing himself as he went to Julian's side and stroked a comforting hand over his thick brown mane of hair, a bittersweet smile curving his lips when Julian leaned into the touch. Rauko had always marveled at how touch-starved those of the Shadowclaw bloodline could be during times of crisis, and Julian was no different. [Can you sense Callandra or the children?]  
  
         [Callie is faint and unreachable. Dorian … is near, as is - ]  
  
         He broke off as that distant aura that was distinctly Callie's burned brightly in his mind for one brief moment then vanished completely, leaving behind a gaping emptiness in his consciousness where her presence had once occupied. Then, as if it were an afterthought, a second, smaller presence faded as well, and confusion and panic that were not his own blossomed in his mind.   
  
         Rauko, too, had sensed the way Callie's presence seemed to disconnect, signaling what they all had feared - she had been forced to choose between years of captivity for herself and her children or freedom for her young ones in exchange for her life. A low hiss escaped between his bared teeth, a hatred for wizard-kind in general heating his blood, but then he remembered his Lisette, as well as Aiya and Harry, all blessed with the same ability to work magic as the criminals who had attacked his people. He would not become like those who hunted the Mori out of blind fear and prejudice, or sought to enslave them - not all wizards and witches were evil, just as not all Mori were so.   
  
         [She is gone … and also a quieter death, perhaps the youngest?] His voice remained icy and aloof, allowing for no sign of weakness or emotion. He could feel Julian struggling for his own control, and he lent him a share of his strength.  
  
         [Melony was a Solstice child …] Julian dazedly confirmed the additional loss, numb from shock and the incomprehensible horror of the night's events. [The sudden separation from her mother must have been too much for her.]  
  
         Rauko nodded. Mori children born during the Summer Solstice rarely lived for long unless nurtured carefully for the first few years of life. The hole ripped in her mind by her mother's death had no doubt been too violently painful for Melony to survive. He pulled Julian to his feet, determined to keep him from sinking into despair. The time for mourning would come later, once Dorian was found.  
  
         [How many attackers do you think there were?] he asked, knowing that Julian would habitually revert to his training as a detective, thereby distracting him from his grief.  
  
         [Four, maybe five. And there was a lycanthrope with them … maybe to scent out the children. His stench is all over Dorian's bedroom.]  
  
         [We will deal with the werewolves in time. They would be fools to cross us. Have you detected any Aurors?]  
  
         [Two have been watching the house … one male, one female. There was a mark in the sky that they quickly banished, but then my people arrived before they could investigate the house. I doubt they will waste their tricks on a lost cause. They can't smooth this one over with the other humans - Andrew was too well known, so the press will be all over this.]  
  
         [And the body?]  
  
         [Taken to the morgue. I sent Evan to intercept it once it arrives, and a substitute will be provided. The damage to the body was extreme and one of our own works for the coroner, so there will be no questions.]  
  
         Rauko squeezed Julian's shoulder, proud of how effortlessly he had executed the cover-up, especially knowing how close Julian had been to the victims of this horrible crime: Julian's mother and Callie's father were brother and sister, and the cousins had been quite fond of each other. The secrecy and survival of their people depended on those like Julian who on a daily basis infiltrated the inner workings of human society, using all their cunning to stay one step ahead of the creatures who unknowingly gave refuge to the Mori's highly-adaptive race.   
  
         [Dorian is blocking me,] Julian said, his eyes still gleaming with that fierce yellowish light, striving for self-discipline as his instincts fought to be free. The urge to protect his cousin's child invaded every cell of his body, but there was little he could do while Dorian was too frightened and confused to let anyone past his barriers. [And even if Andrew has found his Voice with the spirits already, it won't do us any good while they keep their silence.]  
  
         Rauko hated to admit it, but the boy was blocking him as well. Self-preservation was a powerful motivator of strength in a Mori, and he doubted he could penetrate the young one's shields without damaging his psyche, already fragile after losing his entire family in one night. However, there was one glimmer of hope …  
  
         [Aiya's fledgling has exceptional Sight. I believe he holds the key to finding Dorian. I will fetch him.] Rauko stepped back towards the shadows that had served as his portal into the house. [Wait here for us.] And then he was gone, swallowed by darkness.  
  
  
                                                                                                          *     *     *     *     *       
  
  
         "No change?" Albus Dumbledore peered down at the vicious creature writhing and thrashing upon the bed, no trace of the usual twinkle in his blue eyes as he witnessed what Harry had become not long after he had fallen unconscious in the Great Hall. It looked as if Harry was demon-possessed, struggling and snarling at them with blank, unseeing eyes, frightened by something only he could see, his body reacting instinctively to whatever vision imprisoned him.   
  
         He had been brought back to the rooms he shared with Severus instead of placing him in the hospital wing, the idea being that he would be more comfortable in a familiar place than in the sterile environment of the sickroom, but all worries about Harry's comfort had evaporated once Harry turned violent, and restraints for his arms and legs had been conjured to keep him from attacking the very people who wanted to help him.  
  
         Severus, alone, escaped Harry's fury, being the only one who could touch Harry without having him gnash his teeth in warning or growl threateningly, but even his soothing touch was not enough to lure Harry out of his nightmare and back into reality.  
  
         "He has a fever," Severus said, wiping Harry's brow with a cool rag. His pitch-black eyes never left Harry's face, clearly pained to see his lover suffering while he was helpless to prevent it. "I've tried to wake him several times, but his mind is barricaded from me."  
  
         "And apparently from Miss Graham as well, though it was hard to get much information from her. I fear the same trauma that is affecting Harry is affecting Aiya as well. She has been sedated and is resting peacefully in her own rooms. I left her in Poppy's care with Mr. Malfoy to assist her. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley have laid claim to your sofa - both very pale, but holding up splendidly under the circumstances."  
  
         "Do you have any idea what might have caused this?" Severus cringed when Harry stopped jerking against his bonds and tried to curl up into himself, whimpering softly as he stared blindly at the ceiling, his sounds of pain and anguish rousing a powerful need inside of Severus to protect Harry from the torment of his dreams.  
  
         "I am told an attack took place tonight at a house in Muggle London. The dark mark was seen in the sky overhead."  
  
         Severus frowned, clearly perplexed as to why Voldemort would bother attacking Muggles after biding his time for so long, but then realization dawned and his expression turned grim. "It was a Mori household, then?"  
  
         "It cannot be confirmed … _yet_." Dumbledore glanced at Harry, his blue eyes darkening with sorrow for what he suspected Harry was experiencing. "The Aurors who were sent to investigate would have no reason to suspect such a thing, nor would I wish them to, but it seems likely."  
  
         Suddenly, Harry's body went limp, his eyes closing and his breathing evening out as he slipped into a state of deep sleep. At the same time, Severus flinched and clutched at his arm, the dark mark branded into his flesh burning blackly as he was summoned by Voldemort. The timing of these two separate events seemed far from coincidental to Severus, but he had little choice as to what he would do.  
  
         "I have to go," he said, bending down to press his lips to Harry's sweat-beaded forehead, alarmed at how cold and clammy his skin had become when only a moment ago he'd been burning with fever. He looked up at Dumbledore with his typical steely resolve. "Harry shouldn't wake up alone. I'll send Weasley and Granger in to sit with him."  
  
         "Severus …" Dumbledore began, concern furrowing his brow and making him look even older than his already considerable years, but whatever worrisome thoughts were plaguing his mind were soon pushed aside and he nodded. "Yes, that would be best." He clapped a hand on Severus's shoulder, adding gently, "Be careful."  
  
         "Aren't I always?" Severus said dryly, but his casual retort couldn't conceal the uncertainty in his voice. The constant burning in his arm told him he had to go, but every other part of him argued that it was more important to stay with Harry, and he was having a hard time walking away. Chiding himself for falling prey to his emotions when he had a duty to attend to, Severus tore his gaze from Harry's pale face and forced himself to take that first step away from his lover's bedside, giving a curt nod to Dumbledore as he left the room.  
  
         Hermione was the first to enter once Severus was gone, trailed by a sad-eyed Ron sporting a ripening bruise on his left jaw, the painful consequence of being too close to Harry's fist when he initially lashed out in his sleep. The experience didn't seem to have left much of a sour impression on Ron, however, as he brushed past Hermione to sit down on the edge of the bed, right next to where Harry lay.  
  
         "Can't we take these off of him now?" he asked, gesturing towards the restraints on Harry's wrists and ankles.   
  
         Dumbledore smiled kindly and nodded. "I believe the worst has passed," he agreed, and with a flick of his wand, the restraints were gone. "I will send Madam Pomfrey to look in on Harry soon. If there are any changes in his condition before then, I want one of you to fetch either her or myself, but no one else. Is that understood?"  
  
         Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement, their solemn faces reflecting the gravity of the situation as well as their understanding of the need for secrecy. Dumbledore took in their serious expressions with a repressed sense of regret - these were no longer children gazing up at him, they were adults. _And have been for quite some time_ , he realized. He wondered how many others like Harry and Ron and Hermione would have their childhoods cut short because of the war. _Too many_ , came the answer, but he gave them each a reassuring smile as he walked to the door. "I have some business to attend to, but I will be back as soon as possible. If Harry wakes up and asks for Severus, tell him I sent him on an errand for the Order."  
  
         Hermione's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to protest, but Dumbledore sighed and held out a hand to silence her. "Yes, yes, Miss Granger, I know it is not exactly the truth, but I want to keep Harry calm and rational, and that will not happen if he learns where Severus has really gone. Can I count on you to keep him calm?"  
  
         The two students nodded in unison again, though their distaste at withholding information from their best friend was evident in their expressions. Dumbledore, satisfied that they would be obedient, if not blindly so, turned and left the room.  
  
         Hermione hovered next to Ron's shoulder, her fingertips brushing over the thick quilt that blanketed Harry's sleeping form, but as soon as she heard the click of the outer door closing, signaling Dumbledore's complete departure, she hurried over to the bedroom door and closed it, locking it securely with a tap of her wand and casting a silencing charm on the walls to ensure whatever discussions took place in the room would remain confidential.  
  
         "What's gotten into you?" Ron asked, bewildered by his girlfriend's actions.  
  
         "I have a lot of respect for Madam Pomfrey," Hermione began, tucking her wand under her arm so she could roll up the sleeves of her robes, then flexing her fingers like a pianist preparing to plunge into a challenging concerto, "but she's clueless about the Mori. For instance, she won't know that this faint purplish discoloration around Harry's eyes and mouth indicates he recently used a seriously strong spell - it's kind of like how a person's lips turn blue when they're deprived of oxygen. Whatever spell he cast, it drained him to a dangerous degree."  
  
         Ron blinked, looking down at his best friend's face with renewed concern. Yes, he could see the bruise-like shadows that marked Harry's skin, something he had completely overlooked until Hermione pointed it out. But when had Harry cast a spell? And why such a strong one?  
  
         Hermione reclaimed her wand, her shrewd gaze fixed on Harry's pale face as she continued, "I doubt he would respond to the typical potions and healing charms at this point. He needs a … a jump start, or something … like a magical transfusion."  
  
         "Jump start?" Ron cocked his head to the side, puzzled by the term.  
  
         Hermione rolled her eyes, dismissing the words with an impatient wave of her hand. "Sorry, it's a Muggle thing." She leaned over the bed, brushing Harry's dark hair away from his forehead to reveal the bolt-shaped scar that burned an angry red against the pallor of his skin. "I'm just worried that he's left himself vulnerable to Voldemort, and it could take days, maybe even weeks, for him to recover completely on his own without some intervention."  
  
         "Why didn't you tell that to Dumbledore?"  
  
         "Mori healing is tricky, Ron. I don't think the Headmaster would be willing to take the risk of what needs to be done, but even if he was willing, he wouldn't be my first choice. Maybe it would be better for Aiya, or even Professor Snape, to do this, but aside from them, we're the closest ones to Harry." Hermione took a deep breath, then raised her wand and pointed it at Harry's chest. "No, as much as Dumbledore cares for Harry, this is something you or I have to do." And it was apparent that Hermione had decided which of the two friends was best qualified to conduct this 'transfusion' to speed along Harry's recovery.  
  
         "Wait, wait!" Ron knocked her arm aside, standing up and placing himself in front of Harry so that any spell would hit him instead of Harry. "I don't understand what you mean. Why does it have to be one of us?"  
  
         "Because the Mori are sensitive to magic on a completely different level from humans. Remember how Harry told us he could feel all the anger and fear in Draco's curse when Draco used Cruciatus on him during their fight? But if someone who loves Harry is the one casting the curse, then - "  
  
         " - then he'll just feel warm, fuzzy feelings, is that what you're saying?"  
  
         Hermione nodded. "In the simplest of terms, yes. But it's more than that - love is a powerful healer. I'm sure Dumbledore really does care a lot about Harry, but he isn't as close to him as you and I are. It's up to us to help him."  
  
         "By cursing him?" Ron had abandoned his defensive posture, but he still hadn't moved out of Hermione's way.   
  
         "It won't hurt him, Ron," she said a little crossly.  
  
         "I know that," he snapped right back at her, but then his shoulders sagged and he let out a heavy sigh. "It just seems … _wrong_. I know he's immune to it, but just the idea of cursing my best friend …"  
  
         Hermione smiled, leaning forward to brush her lips over his gently. "You can be so sweet, Ron. And I had a hunch you'd feel that way, which is why I decided I would be the one to do it. We don't want Harry to wake up feeling extremely guilty, now do we?"  
  
         Ron managed a weak grin. Leave it to Hermione to be two steps ahead. Putting his faith in his girlfriend, he stepped aside, allowing her unfettered access to Harry, who remained blissfully unaware of the entire conflict. "Okay, but you do know he's been known to blow up buildings because of stuff like this, right?"  
  
         She raised her wand again, a look of intense concentration stealing over her face. "Of course, which is why I'm sure the Headmaster wouldn't risk it. But he's unconscious, so it should be safe … I think." She took a deep breath, pointing her wand again at Harry's chest, but then she paused and lowered her hand to her side, turning to look at Ron with a doubtful frown. "Just in case, though, why don't you go stand in the bathroom doorway."  
  
         "That's for earthquakes," Ron grumbled, but he did it anyway, knowing better than to argue with Hermione when she was in such a determined state of mind.  
  
         With Ron out of harm's way, Hermione again brought her wand up, clearing her throat before venturing the first syllable of a spell, " _Cru_ \- " but her voice cracked and her wand wavered, and she had to pull back once more. _I'm not as indifferent to this as I thought_ , she realized, and with only a slight change in her plan, she raised her wand and aimed steadily, her voice clear and focused as she chose a different curse, " _Imperio_!"  
  
         Harry's body jerked as if he'd been electrocuted but he didn't wake up. His breathing grew labored for several minutes as the magic coursed its way through his body, bringing the first hint of color to his cheeks and banishing the sickly bruising around his eyes and mouth, but then he seemed to fall back into that deep, dreamless sleep and his breathing evened out once more.  
  
         Ron waited for something disastrous to happen - spontaneous combustion of the bed linens or the upper floors caving in on them - but the room remained still and quiet, with only Harry's gentle snore breaking the strained silence. Hermione, he noticed, was staring in horror at her wand.  
  
         "I can't believe I just cast an Unforgivable," she whispered.  
  
         He choked down a laugh. "It's a little late for second thoughts now!"   
  
         "He looks better though, doesn't he?" Hermione tucked her wand away, then bent down to examine Harry's scar, relieved to see that it had faded from that vivid red to a pinkish hue.   
  
         "Definitely an improvement," Ron said honestly, though also out of a desire to reassure Hermione.   
  
         "I'm surprised he didn't wake up. You don't think it's a bad sign, do you?"  
  
         "No, his body just needs the rest. I'm sure he'll wake up before too long." Ron settled himself back down on the bed at Harry's side, then reached for Hermione's hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze, a cheerful smile curving his lips. "You did great. I can't wait to tell Harry that you cursed him."  
  
         Hermione groaned. "Can't that just be our little secret?" She ran the fingers of her free hand through Ron's hair, trying to bring some order to the unruly strands.  
  
         "My silence comes at a price." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, his smile widening to a teasing grin as an uncharacteristic blush spread over Hermione's cheeks, but then a shadow seemed to fall over her face, the room's lamps flickering, and Ron's brows drew together in a bewildered frown. "Uhh, is it just me, or did the room just get a whole lot darker?"  
  
         He squinted up at Hermione but she was staring wide-eyed over his head at something on the opposite side of the room. He glanced over his shoulder, then blinked and gave a cry of alarm, scrambling off the bed and protectively pushing Hermione behind him. A tall, dark-haired man stood across the bed from them, his eyes an unearthly shade of purple that glowed in the growing darkness of the room.  
  
         "I've come for Harry," the man said in a hypnotic voice that made Ron's brain turn fuzzy and scrambled his already panicked thoughts.  
  
         "You're Rauko, aren't you?" Hermione was having the same difficulty keeping her thoughts organized, but her voice came out firm, leaving no doubt that she fully expected her questions to be answered. The resemblance between this sweet-tongued Mori and their latest DADA professor was unmistakable, and beneath her bravado Hermione felt a twinge of apprehension at being in the same room with the morion that most books painted as a bloodthirsty monster. Even Culpepper's notes contained vicious tales of what the enigmatic leader of the Mori was capable of committing for the sake of his people. "How did you get past the wards?"  
  
         "I picked the locks," Rauko answered smoothly with a wicked grin, though the true key to getting past the complicated wards surrounding Hogwarts had been found deep in his daughter's unprotected mind. Whatever sleeping draught or potion she'd been given had left her entirely vulnerable to his prying mind, and he was grateful he hadn't been forced to take more drastic measures.   
  
         "Just where exactly do you plan on taking Harry?" Ron asked suspiciously once he'd regained the use of his voice.  
  
         Rauko smiled indulgently but did not answer, choosing instead to pull Harry's prone form closer to his side of the bed, placing his hand over Harry's abdomen and stomach, then pressing gently, his head cocked to the side as if he were listening for some distant sound. A brief emotion - was it relief? - flashed across Rauko's face, but then he stifled it and gathered Harry into his arms as effortlessly as lifting an infant from its cradle. He bent to sniff at Harry's skin as he picked up the scent of a recent spell, his expression darkening at first then smoothing out into surprise and appreciation. His alluring violet gaze fell on the two humans once more. "One of you tried to heal him."  
  
         Ron blinked. _Wow, the Mori really are sensitive to magic_ , he thought, but to Rauko he only said, "Err, yeah, Hermione did."  
  
         Hermione, who had been transfixed by the sight of Rauko prodding Harry's stomach, now stepped forward, forgetting her unease as all her thoughts centered on Harry and his well-being. "He's going to be alright, isn't he? The damage ... it isn't permanent, is it?"  
  
         "He will recover," Rauko said, then stepped back into the shadows, but before entering the threshold, he turned and pinned Ron and Hermione with a forceful stare. "Tell your Headmaster that if he wants to see Harry again, he will bring my daughter to a neutral location - it is his choice where, as long as it is secret and safe - where we can discuss these events further. If any harm comes to Aiya between now and then, I will see to it that my adopted son remains hidden from the wizarding world forever ... and that is not an idle threat. We Mori are excellent at playing hide and seek." Another flash of brilliant white teeth, and then both Rauko and Harry were gone, the shadows of the room dissipating as the lamps burned brighter and that sudden gloom faded into nothingness.  
  
         "Bloody hell," Ron muttered, feeling a little as if he'd been kicked in the head by a hippogriff.   
  
         "Bloody hell is right," Hermione said, clutching Ron's hand and dragging him to the door, unlocking it with a flick of her wand. "Did you see how he was touching Harry's stomach? I can't believe it's true -- but what else could he have been checking on? And it would explain why he's been so out of it lately ... Oh, that Harry! How could he be so reckless? And after I kept telling him to be careful!"  
  
         "What is it now? So what if Rauko touched his stomach? You should be more worried about what Dumbledore's going to say when we tell him we let Harry get kidnapped!"  
  
         "And _you_! You never would let me finish all those times I tried to warn him, would you?!" They had left Snape's and Harry's rooms, Hermione tugging Ron along behind her as fast as she could as they headed for the Headmaster's office. "And I very plainly asked him if he was taking precautions. Why would he lie and say he was? He probably didn't even read my notes ..."  
  
         Ron did his best to keep up, yanked along whenever his confusion interfered with his walking. "Listen, Love, you're not making any sense. What, besides the fact that our best mate just got himself Mori-napped by a guy named 'demon', has you so upset?"  
  
         "He's pregnant, Ron. Harry is pregnant."  
  
         "Pre-Pre-Pre-" Ron couldn't even force the word out, his skin turning a ghastly white as the seemingly impossible revelation stunned him into silence.  
  
         " _Pregnant_ , yes, though he can't be more than a few weeks along. I wonder why Madam Pomfrey didn't notice? Though I'm sure her medical knowledge of the Mori is severely limited, and Culpepper does say that detection of the fetus through magical means isn't reliable until the third or fourth month of -- " her unsolicited lecture on the subject of Mori childbirth was cut short by her body being suddenly jerked backwards, and she tumbled rather ungracefully to the ground with only Ron's tall, gangly body to break her fall. One look at her unconscious boyfriend and Hermione realized her mistake. _I suppose this was a 'You should sit down first' type of situation_ , she thought to herself ruefully.  
  
         " _Mobilicorpus_ ," she said with a sigh, directing Ron's levitated body ahead of her as she continued the long walk to Dumbledore's office.

 


	33. Hide and Seek

 

         _Harry sat in the otherwise empty bleachers that flanked the Quidditch pitch. He was dressed in his school robes, but his clothes felt tight and strained as they stretched over his body. He placed a hand on his stomach and discovered to his amazement that he had acquired a small bump beneath the black material. He felt an answering kick from within in response to his touch and snatched his hand away in surprise.  
  
         "I killed her, Harry." Aiya appeared next to him out of nowhere, dressed in Muggle clothing with her long hair tucked under a baseball cap, guilt and despair clouding her normally sunny expression. "I killed them both. Callie … Andrew … They're dead because of me."  
  
         "That's not true," Harry protested, distracted from his altered condition by the misery in his sister's voice. "Lucius killed them, not you."  
  
         As if on cue, Lucius apparated into the center of the pitch.   
  
         'Hey, he shouldn't be able to do that,' Harry thought with a frown, more upset over this bend in logic than he was over the man's presence.  
  
         "It is time, Kitten," Lucius purred, holding out a hand and beckoning to Aiya. His smug smile filled Harry with vengeful thoughts, and he started to pull out his wand but found he couldn't move at all.  
  
         "Sorry, Harry, but I have to go." Aiya stood, tossing the baseball cap aside.   
  
         "What do you mean?" Harry squirmed and wiggled, but someone or something had rendered him immobile, and he could only watch in horror as Aiya eased down the bleachers towards the spot where Lucius stood waiting. He found himself repeating, almost verbatim, the desperate words he'd pressed into Callie's mind right before she'd killed herself. "There has to be another way, Aiya! I can save you, I know I can!"  
  
         But Aiya had ventured into the center of the pitch, and now Lucius was pulling her into his arms, bending down  and whispering something into her ear as crimson lines carved themselves into her skin, patches of blood staining her clothing as her wounds bled through the thin cotton of her shirt.   
  
         "This is the only way," Aiya said, and then her lips were moving soundlessly, reciting a spell that only she and her captor could hear. Lucius hissed and tried to pull away, but she clung to him as they both erupted into flames, Aiya's screams of pain entwining with Lucius's tortured howls …_  
  
         Harry woke with a start, surprised to find himself nestled into a cocoon of handmade quilts and afghans on a plump, velvety couch. There had to be five or six blankets piled on top of his body, but he wasn't sweltering underneath their considerable warmth - in fact, he felt quite comfortable and secure.   
  
         Gingerly, he slipped a hand under his nightshirt (apparently someone had changed him into his pajamas after the incident in the Great Hall) and gently probed the smooth flesh of his stomach, greatly relieved to find it flat and bump-less.   
  
         "Just a dream," he told himself, but could he really ever believe that again? Where was the line between harmless dreams and clairvoyant visions? _The spirits would know_ , he thought sullenly, resenting their silence.   
  
         [Aiya. Aiya?] He called out to his sister, fervently wishing for an answer, but there was no response. He touched her mind, but when he found it vulnerable and unprotected he quickly pulled back. To linger any longer might mean unintentionally prying into her defenseless thoughts, and Harry had limits when it came to satisfying his own curiosity. He refused to invade anyone's mind like that. Aiya was alive, and from what he could infer she was safe. It would have to be enough for him until he figured out where he was and why.  
  
         _This is the only way_ … Callie's words, and the words of Aiya in his dream, came back to haunt Harry as he kicked off the numerous blankets tucked around his body. He expected to feel that same gut-wrenching agony he'd felt during his vision of Callie's death when thinking about her now, but instead he felt calm and detached … and _loved_. That particular emotion, warm and consoling and powerful, shielded him from the true horror of what he'd witnessed that night, a buffer between Harry and the pain. Where it came from, he didn't know, but he was grateful for it.  
  
         He sat up, taking a good look around as he dragged his fingers through his pillow-mussed hair, only succeeding in making the silky blue-black strands stick out at odd angles and adding to his overall disheveled appearance. The room he'd been sleeping in was a spacious living room, well-furnished and tastefully decorated, the off-white walls covered in artwork and what looked like framed records. The paintings looked familiar somehow, most of them nightscapes, with a few miniature portraits interspersed between the larger pieces. There was an expensive-looking stereo system and a large television, two distinctly Muggle luxuries that further narrowed down Harry's choices for where he was.  
  
         _Why am I not at the school?_ he wondered, knowing he should be alarmed, but he was too mellowed out by the feel-good magic churning through his veins to make much of a fuss just yet. He tentatively tugged on his bond to Severus, but again he was greeted only by silence. For some reason, Severus was completely blocking any contact with him. _I wonder where he is …_  
  
         He dug his toes into the plush carpet, recognition sinking in as he noticed the way his pale feet glowed a stark white against the deep red color of the floor. Off-white walls, crimson carpet … this was 117 Willowbrooke Lane. The Lennox home. _And a crime scene_ , he realized. Why had he been brought here? Surely no one at the school would have risked bringing him to a Muggle neighborhood, and not only that but to a house where a murder had taken place and where Death Eaters could still be lurking nearby, eager to scoop up the unprotected Mori children that they'd failed to find during their first raid.  
  
         Before he could properly organize his thoughts, Harry heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs just beyond the living room. Out of habit he reached for his wand … and came up empty. _This keeps getting better and better_ , he thought to himself bitterly, but then he felt the first waves of a powerful presence approaching, a presence he knew all too well, and the trepidation that had started to leak through his 'warm fuzzies' barrier was squashed down and replaced with relief. _Rauko_. He could almost pity any Death Eater that tried to enter the house right now …   
  
         _… almost._  
  
         [You are awake. Do you feel any pain?] No greeting, no words of comfort, only a cool, clinical assessment coupled with the beginnings of a mild interrogation from the leader of the Mori as he and another morion entered the living room.  
  
         [Where is Severus?] Harry answered Rauko's questions with a question of his own. He knew Rauko had the ability to discern Harry's mental and physical state without Harry's help,  and Rauko had no qualms whatsoever about barging his way into other people's minds, so he found his question to be a little patronizing. Maybe it was Rauko's way of being polite?  
  
         "He was not there when I came to fetch you, and I did not linger long enough to inquire after his whereabouts," Rauko answered aloud, perhaps for the benefit of the golden-eyed morion standing just to his left. "That foolish Headmaster of yours left only two young ones to guard you. Perhaps he had other work for Severus to do …"   
  
         Harry felt the first flutter of fear in his gut, and he began rubbing soothing circles over his stomach without fully comprehending his own actions. The fear quieted but did not die out altogether, a lingering unease filling his mind as he wondered if Severus had been called away by Voldemort.   
  
         "Then it's true? He really is - but you said - " The unknown morion standing next to Rauko was staring at Harry with undisguised shock, his golden eyes bright with confusion as he watched the way Harry's hand stroked over his stomach. Something about the action made the stranger trip over his words, " - you said he was ' _turned_ ,' yes? So how can he be - "  
  
         "Harry is special," Rauko said with a self-satisfied smirk, as if he himself was responsible for Harry's uniqueness.  
  
         "And he's also sitting right here," Harry grouched, pushing himself to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, his legs unexpectedly shaky, but before long he felt steady enough to walk a few feet closer to the two Mori, though he reared back when the brown-haired one - who, without his glamours, looked no older than Harry - closed the distance between them and began to sniff at Harry's hair, then his neck, moving down to his chest with the intention of going lower if Harry hadn't shoved him away. "Hey! Ever heard of personal space?"  
  
         Rauko filled him in silently, amusement ringing in his voice. [Julian means no harm, Harry. He is a Shadowclaw, and Shadowclaws rely heavily on scent when forming relationships. He … finds your smell appealing. Well … perhaps _comforting_ would be a better word. It is not his intention to offend you.]  
  
         The now-identified Julian looked disappointed to have his instinctive greeting rejected, but he weathered Harry's rebuff with a wide grin that bordered on apologetic. "I'm not used to restraining myself around another Mori. I suppose my instincts got the better of me."  
  
         Harry felt suddenly sympathetic towards him. He could certainly identify with the whole 'slave to your instincts' dilemma. In fact, he and Severus had christened most of the classrooms at Hogwarts to appease his instincts. At least it didn't sound like Julian had been hitting on him or anything, though why he smelled so good was beyond his understanding. _For Merlin's sake,_ he lectured himself out of frustration, _as soon as you get back to school, you are reading Hermione's notes from cover to cover, no matter what!_ He was sick of being so uninformed, though admittedly he had no one to blame but himself.   
  
         "Are you sure you should have brought him here in his condition?" Julian turned on Rauko with a worried frown.  
  
         "What condition?" Harry asked innocently, but his gaze had zeroed in on the gun Julian wore, furthering Harry's first impression of the newest member to join his circle of allies. Coupled with that feral, eerily cat-like yellow gaze, the deadly muggle weapon Julian carried gave him an edgy quality, dangerous in a way that was different from Rauko's sinister charm. Harry couldn't help but think of Julian as the Mori version of Mad Eye Moody - a youthful, handsome version, of course, and perhaps not quite as eccentric, but with that same aura of unpredictability tempered by long years of experience. He wondered if Julian was as lethal with his gun as the infamous Auror was with his wand.  
  
         Julian's eyes narrowed, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he glared openly at Rauko. "You mean he doesn't even know he's - "   
  
         A loud ringing noise interrupted the morion and he fished a silver mobile phone out of his pocket, turning his back on both Harry and Rauko as he answered it in clipped tones, "Thorpe here."   
  
         [Forget him for now,] Rauko said dismissively, sliding an arm around Harry's shoulders and drawing him out of the room, giving Julian a measure of privacy for his call. He expertly guided Harry up the stairs, refusing to give him a chance to turn back as Harry realized where they were going. He didn't release his tight grip on Harry's shoulders until they had arrived at the closed door to Dorian's room. [I brought you here to help us find the child. Your Sight may be the only advantage we have in this search.]  
  
         Harry trembled as he stared at the childish scrawl on the handmade nameplate, trying not to think about what had happened only a few doors down the hallway, though it was impossible to ignore the lingering stench of burnt flesh and hair.   
  
         "I'm sorry I … I didn't remember in time," Harry said haltingly, forcing the words out around a surge of guilt and remorse. Then, as if a past tragedy automatically led him to ponder future ones, he turned to Rauko with frightened jade eyes. "Lucius knows about Aiya. Callie … she mentioned Aiya's name before she …. and he heard it. She's in danger. And then Voldemort …"  
  
         [Calm down, Harry,] Rauko ordered, his low, persuasive voice working better than any tranquilizer to soothe Harry's frayed nerves. [Aiya is safe. You are safe. I won't let _that wizard_ ,] razor-sharp hatred sliced into Harry's mind as Rauko referred to Lucius, [or his would-be 'Dark Lord' hurt either of my children.]   
  
         Fierce, protective love blossomed in Harry's mind in tandem with Rauko's fatherly declaration, and he smiled in spite of himself. Rauko could be intimidating and manipulative, but he was also an affectionate parent and a determined defender of the many Mori who placed their lives in his hands. No doubt the loss of Andrew and Callie weighed just as heavily on Rauko's conscience as it did on Harry's.   
  
         [Remember what I promised you? Once the danger had passed, I would answer all your questions, and tell you what the seahorse means for you. It is important, Harry, very important, and it involves Severus, too. But all questions will have to wait until Dorian is found.]   
  
         _And there's the manipulative side_ , Harry thought with a sigh. Of course Rauko would know that Harry craved to have all his questions answered, especially if those answers related to Severus. It was the perfect bait, though he needn't have bothered. Harry was just as eager to find Dorian as Rauko was. _But wait …_  
  
         "What about the baby?"   
  
         Rauko's eyes widened in surprise, the irises shifting to dark indigo, then he seemed to recover, giving a shaky laugh as he patted Harry's shoulder. [Oh yes, you mean Callie's youngest - ]  
  
         Harry frowned, looking up at him with renewed suspicion, but the moment had passed and Rauko had adopted such a somber expression that Harry began to think he'd imagined that brief loss of composure. This was Rauko, after all. Nothing seemed to faze him.  
  
         [We fear that Melony did not survive her mother's suicide. The bond between a young Mori and its parents is incredibly strong. The pain of having that bond broken is sometimes too much for a little one to bear.]  
  
         Again, Harry's hand went protectively to his flat abdomen, an instinctive action that he just couldn't explain. He quickly let his hand drop away. The tiniest glimmer of understanding was beginning to creep its way into his consciousness - his desperate urge to mate with Severus, his fatigue and nausea, the dream he'd just had, Julian's talk of a 'condition' - all these things were adding up in the back of his mind, but he was still very much in denial and didn't want to face such a mind-blowing reality. Instead, he focused on the unfairness of a mother sacrificing herself for her children only to have one of them die anyway. "You mean she died? After all that Callie went through?"  
  
         [Dorian is still alive, Harry. That is what we must concentrate on now.] Rauko's voice had deepened along with his accent, that melodic murmur stealing its way into Harry's thoughts and casting its spell, until gradually it buried the threat of Harry coming to a complete realization about his 'condition' any time soon. In place of those disturbing but enlightening thoughts, he planted the seeds that would ensure Harry focused on the task of finding the missing Mori child … and nothing else. [He is alone, now. Father, mother, sister … all dead. He is orphaned. Frightened. _Suffering_. He needs your help to survive this, Harry.] He gently opened the door to Dorian's room, the thick, pungent aroma of apples wafting out into the hallway where they stood. He took a step back, his arm falling away from Harry's shoulder. [He needs you to save him.]  
  
         Those were the magic words, the ones that sprouted and bloomed in Harry's mind, feeding off his desperate need to give meaning to Callie's sacrifice. He hadn't been able to save her, but he could save Dorian. She had asked him to find her children, knowing that they would need him, and he couldn't fail her.   
  
         He took a step into the room, his foot lifting into the air to take another, but snatches of his dream returned to him and he stepped back, looking down at the shattered fragments of glass that littered the carpet where his foot had nearly landed. _That was close_ , he thought, and he easily sidestepped the broken glass as he ventured further into the room. A red and white toy chest had been overturned, its lid nearly torn from the hinges, and numerous stuffed animals and plastic action figures had spilled out onto the carpet, including a toy giraffe whose head had been ripped from its long neck, bits of fluff and fabric littering the floor where the animal had been dropped.   
  
         _This is exactly like my dream_ , Harry realized. This confirmation of the accuracy of his visions began to steer his thoughts back to his recent dream downstairs, but Rauko's gentle unspoken command to ' _focus_ ' drove the troubling questions back into hiding, the hypnotic suggestion placed so masterfully that Harry remained unaware of the subtle manipulation.  
  
         He examined the vandalized posters plastered over every inch of bare wall, smiling inwardly at the random notion that Dorian was quite the rabid football fan, even at such a young age, but he couldn't hold on to that amusing thought for long when faced with the gouges that crisscrossed the players' faces. He sniffed at the scorch marks that covered the walls nearest to Dorian's bed, the burned areas surrounded by blistered and peeling paint, and Harry recognized the scent of the spell as a variation on _Incendio_ , strengthened somehow by dark magic but concentrated in a way that allowed it to inflict maximum damage to a localized area without setting the entire room on fire.   
  
         _Rather inventive for a Death Eater_ , he mused. He wondered if one of the three nameless men he'd seen during his vision was the culprit. Lucius was vicious, but Harry had never found him to be particularly creative, and none of the other Death Eaters he knew of seemed capable of such a high quality spell. Well, except for Severus. In fact, under different circumstances, the devious and highly-intelligent Severus would have been Harry's first suspect in the engineering of such a potent modified spell.  
  
         "Someone lost his temper here," he said softly, tracing the blackened gashes with his fingertips.   
  
         [Thankfully, their search was as fruitless as ours has been.] Rauko remained outside of the room, leaning against the doorframe with the top three buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his violet gaze finally showing signs of weariness. [Had they taken the children, the young ones would have been helpless to protect themselves against the binding spell. We do not teach them of this … _fail-safe_ spell … until they are marked with their first runes, in early adolescence.]  
  
         Honestly, Harry couldn't comprehend teaching children of _any_ age how to kill themselves, not to mention in such a horrific manner. _There has to be another way_ … he kept repeating those words to himself again and again, determined to find some counter-curse, some antidote to the binding spell that did not involve innocent Mori offering themselves up as burnt sacrifices to protect their loved ones. He had plenty of first-rate wizards around to help him hunt down an answer; surely they could find a solution.  
  
         Harry sighed and looked around, not sure what sort of clues he could find to Dorian's whereabouts in the wreckage of the bedroom. The lingering scent of apples turned his stomach, that sweet smell now forever associated with the deaths that had occurred that evening, and Harry doubted he'd be able to even look at the fruit, let alone eat it, for quite some time ... if ever. However, he detected a sharper, cleaner scent beneath the smell of the spilled juice, a scent that reminded him, oddly enough, of that summer before his first year at Hogwarts, when Vernon had dragged them all to that tumbledown shack perched on a rock and surrounded by the sea in an effort to prevent Harry's letter from being delivered.   
  
         "Do you smell that?" He didn't bother to wait for Rauko's reply, verbal or otherwise, as he carefully hopped and sidled his way over to the other side of the room, following the scent as it grew stronger. He found himself in front of the closet, where clothes had been haphazardly tossed this way and that, and board games and boxes of baby mementos had been torn down from the top shelves and strewn over the closet floor, evidence that this area of the room had been searched just as thoroughly as the rest of the bedroom. Still, something wasn't right. This part of the room had looked different in his dream, but how?   
  
         Harry chewed on his bottom lip, studying the closet closely, then he reached out with both hands and parted the clothes that had remained hanging up, leaving the back of the closet bare to his view.   
  
         _There_ , he thought. _That's what it looked like. And then I_ … he reached out and pressed his fingertips to the paneling, the solid wood resisting his touch briefly before a threshold opened and his hand sank into shadow. Without waiting to inform Rauko of what he'd found, Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward, a part of him expecting to smack his forehead on the closet wall, but he found himself moving from one threshold to another with only the barest glimpse of the void in between.   
  
         _It's a portal_ , Harry realized, _between Dorian's room and … Dorian's room?_ He looked around at  the unlit space he now occupied, surprised to see that he'd walked straight into a duplicate of the room he left behind, right down to the posters plastered on the walls and the long-necked giraffe (head still attached) that peered at him from the open toy chest. Both bed and crib were frustratingly empty.  
  
         One difference he noticed right away was that there was no door in the room. The closet was the only entrance and exit, it seemed. Was he still in the Lennox home? Or was this identical bedroom located somewhere else? It was hard to judge distances when traveling through the void. It was no wonder that no one could find Dorian or Melony. But why had Callie and Andrew kept this unusual sort of panic room a secret from everyone? Wouldn't it have made more sense to leave at least one person outside the family with knowledge of the hidden room? Or was this too important of a secret to entrust it to the network of minds that sometimes let secrets slip unaware? Then who could be trusted?  
  
         _The spirits_ , Harry thought. _They could have told the spirits_. Then, if an emergency occurred or the unthinkable happened, the spirits would reveal the hiding place, but until then, it was the safest secret of all. Unfortunately, neither Callie nor Andrew would have foreseen that the spirits would fall silent, unable to communicate what they knew of Dorian's location.  
  
         "Dorian? It's safe to come out now. My name's Harry and I'm … a friend of your mother." The words rang true as Harry spoke them, even though the friendship had been heartbreakingly short-lived.   
  
         There was a stirring of shadows from the darkness between the crib and toy chest, followed by a frightened sob, but that was all the answer Harry was given.   
  
         [I'm not going to hurt you,] Harry tried to reassure the terrified child, but it was like trying to carry on a conversation with ten feet of solid concrete between them, so strong and unyielding were Dorian's mental barriers. His voice seemed to bounce off the boy's shields and boomerang back into his own mind, but at least he had a good sense of Dorian's presence. He knelt in front of the small space where he'd heard the tearful noise earlier, breathing in the electric scent of a storm-tossed sea that had led him here as he tried to coax the child out of his hiding place.  
  
         "It's okay to be scared, Dorian," Harry said softly, "but I need you to trust me. There are a lot of people who are worried about you right now, and they just want to know that you are safe. Won't you come out so we can go show everyone you're okay? I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you."  
  
         The shadows trembled, allowing Harry a brief glimpse of cerulean eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, but apparently Dorian wasn't quite ready to leave the safety of the threshold he was hiding in. A tentative presence brushed against Harry's mind, then encircled him, latching onto Harry with a strength he hadn't expected, bombarding him with unspoken questions that he realized were just Dorian's panicked thoughts being projected in one big jumble: _where are Mummy and Daddy? why can't I hear them anymore? why did I have to hide? why won't Melony wake up?_  
  
         Harry winced at hearing that last one. How was he going to tell this innocent little boy that his entire family was dead? How would he even begin to explain such a tragedy to a child who, judging from the family portraits, wasn't even five years old yet?   
  
         [I want Mummy,] came the pleading whisper in his mind.  
  
         [I know,] Harry said, fighting to keep his own emotions calm. [I know you do. Won't you come out of the shadows? I want to make sure you didn't get hurt.]  
  
         There was a tense pause as Dorian retreated into silence, but his presence continued to wrap itself around Harry's mind, building a bond between them that was reminiscent of the connection he'd shared with Callie - swiftly formed and startlingly intimate - and Harry wondered if it was just an instinctive reaction for a Mori to form close bonds during times of crisis. He carefully kept anything pertaining to his visions of Callie's and Andrew's deaths safely blocked from the boy, but other than that he left himself open to Dorian's restless and searching mind to further establish trust between them.  
  
         After a few minutes, a small hand pulled free of the shadows, followed by an arm, then a shoulder, Dorian's body emerging from the threshold little by little. His hair was a tangle of black curls in need of a trim, framing a heart-shaped face and those ocean-blue eyes, his skin a creamy shade of café au lait. Clutched against his chest was the still and silent body of his little sister, her own eyes closed as if in sleep, but the glow had faded from her skin and her lips were a bluish-purple.   
  
         "She won't wake up," he whispered, holding out Melony's limp body to Harry, clearly expecting him to succeed where Dorian had failed.   
  
         Harry scooped up the cold, lifeless baby in his arms, struck by the sudden urge to find a blanket to wrap her in while his rational side told him that no amount of insulation was going to bring warmth back to Melony's body. He had witnessed two deaths already this night, but this … this was the worst of all, this unmoving doll-like morwen, so tiny, so helpless, and now yet another victim of the evil that Voldemort and his followers were spreading throughout both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Had it been a painful passing, full of fear and confusion? Or mercifully peaceful? Maybe it was the stress of the night's horrors finally hitting Harry full-on, or maybe it had something to do with the nagging questions in the back of his mind concerning this 'condition' Julian had mentioned, but a feeling of pure terror swept over Harry and he tightened his arms around the fragile corpse protectively.  
  
         "We need to go back," Harry finally managed to choke out, cradling Melony's body in one arm while using his free hand to take hold of Dorian's left one. He breathed a little easier when he felt Dorian's fingers curl around his own in a strong, trusting grip, and he ordered himself to hold on just a little longer, for Dorian's sake. Once he was alone, no longer needing to play the role of responsible adult, then - and only then - would he allow himself to have the nervous breakdown he deserved.  
  
         He led Dorian back through the closet portal, nearly tripping on fallen clothes and boxes as they returned to the ransacked room, but Rauko was standing right there to prevent Harry from tumbling to the floor and taking both the children with him.   
  
         [Excellent, Harry,] Rauko praised him softly before gently relieving a reluctant Harry of Melony's body. Some instinct in Harry didn't want to let the child be taken from him. [I will take good care of Melony, do not worry. Take Dorian downstairs and Julian will watch over you both until I return. I will be bringing someone back with me, and then we can have our talk.]  
  
         Harry nodded numbly, and to ease the ache in his heart after giving Melony over to Rauko he bent down and picked Dorian up, letting the little boy bury his face against Harry's neck and sob quietly as he carried him out of the room and down the stairs to the living room. He rubbed soothing circles over Dorian's back, whispering to him that it was okay to cry.   
  
         "You found him," Julian said with obvious relief from his watch post at the window as Harry sat down on the living room sofa, still holding Dorian in his arms as the child's sobs quieted and he cried himself to sleep. Julian reached over and smoothed the dark fringe away from Dorian's brow. "He must have been exhausted."  
  
         "He has so many questions, and I don't know what to tell him. He asked for Callie …" Harry swallowed hard at the lump that rose in his throat. "I … I couldn't tell him … couldn't bring myself to explain to him that she's …"  
  
         "He knows." Julian surprised Harry with the succinct response. "Deep down, he knows. He can't quite understand it, and he doesn't want to accept it, but with bonds as strong as those that exist between Mori parents and their children, he can feel that they're physically gone."  
  
         Harry couldn't decide whether having such close family ties was a curse or a blessing, but before he'd given the matter much more thought an abrupt clamoring of voices in his head had him wincing and swearing (but quietly, so as not to wake Dorian), and earned him a puzzled look from Julian. It seemed every spirit in existence had crammed themselves into his head and were trying to tell him something, as if none of them could bear to not be the messenger for this particular piece of news.   
  
         _Either you talk to me one at a time or you shut the hell up_ , Harry snarled at them, and surprisingly, they did. Shut the hell up, that is. Apparently, they took their hurt feelings of rejection to Julian, who did a perfect imitation of Harry's own initial reaction, though with a certain flair that Harry hadn't mastered yet, and with far more creative swears.  
  
         "And here I was starting to enjoy the silence," Julian commented wryly and Harry smiled, but then Julian added, "but it is good to hear Andrew's voice."  
  
         "Andrew? You mean Dorian's father?" Harry peered down at the slumbering child and noticed that a peaceful, contented expression had spread over the little boy's face as he sank into a deep sleep. He wondered if perhaps it was Andrew whispering words of love and comfort that had managed to make that happen.  
  
         "Yes, he's one of the spirits now. I was hoping they'd break their silence soon, if only for Dorian's sake. It is a little strange that they waited until you'd already found him before speaking up again. I doubt it's a coincidence." Julian's gaze turned thoughtful as he looked at Harry, distracted from his watch at the window as he studied Harry with gleaming golden eyes that made Harry feel as transparent as the panes of glass Julian had just been staring through.  
  
         "What about Callie? Can you hear her, too?"  
  
         "No." Julian's eyes hooded, a muscle in his jaw twitching, but when he spoke it was with perfect civility as he explained to Harry why Callie had not been among the chorus of voices in his head. "The spell she used prevents her from finding a Voice with the spirits. Part of the spell calls for a release from darkness, which breaks the Mori's connection to all other Mori. She is a spirit … but she will never have a Voice."  
  
         Harry closed his eyes. Dorian would never get to hear his mother say 'I love you' ever again. _So that's why she told me to tell them she loves them_ , Harry realized. _She knew she'd never get the chance._ Humans were used to the finality of death when it came to loved ones, resigned to the painful but irrefutable fact that once someone had died, that was the end of it, but for the Mori … to have a loved one die and have that connection forever broken, it had to be a constant agony - like the phantom pains of an amputated limb.  
  
         A knock on the front door startled both Harry and Julian out of their thoughts, Julian cursing again as he belatedly remembered his post at the window. He flicked the curtains to one side, eyeing the front step with a burgeoning expression of distaste, then pulled the flimsy drapes closed and started towards the front foyer.   
  
         "Stay there, and if I give the signal, I want you to get the hell out of here. There's a safe house a few miles away - the shadows know the way. If this is trouble, I want you to take Dorian there through the void and wait until I come to get you."  
  
         Harry held Dorian close and nodded, alarmed by the fierceness that had roughened Julian's voice.  
  
         "Damn Aurors," he heard Julian mutter, and then dimming and glamours were pulled back in place and Julian looked at least twenty years older than the mere seventeen or eighteen of before, so artfully disguised as a normal human that even Harry, with his Mori eyesight, would have been fooled.   
  
         Not willing to wait on the sidelines for this 'signal' that Julian would give, Harry laid Dorian down on the sofa and covered him with the same blankets that had covered Harry during his own short slumber, then he inched his way closer to the entryway, cloaking himself in shadows just in case things did get ugly and he'd have to escape with Dorian after all.  
  
         Even before he'd fully opened the door, Julian's entire body tensed and he barked into Harry's mind. [Harry, go! One of them is a werewolf - it could be a trap!] But before Harry could act on the command, a big black dog knocked the door the rest of the way open with its body and bounded past a startled Julian, scenting Harry even through the shadows and leaping on him, knocking him clear out of his threshold as they both went crashing to the floor.  
  
         " _Oof!_ " Dazed by the fall (as well as by having a huge dog sitting on his chest), it took Harry a moment to realize that the dog was not tearing him to bits but was happily licking away at his face, making excited yipping noises in lieu of a proper greeting. With realization came understanding, and he laughed as he shoved the dog off of him. "Ugh, Sirius, what have you been eating? You weigh a ton …"  
  
         "I take it you know these … people …" came Julian's stiff comment from the doorway, and Harry looked up to see Remus and Tonks standing a few feet away, a look of shock on Tonk's face as she got her first good look at Harry now that he was a Mori (and an undimmed one, at that), while Remus was glaring openly at Julian.   
  
         "If we were going to attack you, we wouldn't have knocked," Remus snapped, looking pointedly at the gun that was now held at the ready in Julian's hand. Julian reluctantly tucked it back into its holster.  
  
         [Don't worry, these are my friends,] Harry pressed the thought quickly into Julian's mind, adding a mental snapshot of Sirius as he really looked, since he could tell that Julian was slightly disconcerted by the conflicting scents that Sirius gave off while in his dog form. There was a slight lift of Julian's brows and a peculiar darkening of his gaze as he stared long and hard at a now-panting Sirius, a ghost of a grin haunting the corners of his mouth, but then he turned his gaze back to Remus and all traces of good humor were gone.  
  
         "My cousin, her husband and their youngest child have all died tonight. Forgive me if I offended you, but right now I don't have much trust in strangers." Julian sniffed at the still-scowling wizard, and Remus flinched in response. Harry just watched in puzzlement, not sure why Remus was acting so strangely. "There was a lycanthrope here tonight. We think it was scenting out the children. Surely you can understand why _your_ presence, especially, is disturbing for me."  
  
         "I could say the same," Remus answered, suddenly sounding very tired, and the two men nodded at each other, coming to a cease-fire if not to a complete truce.  
  
         [I _will_ get an explanation for that one later,] Harry warned Julian. There was something more to the way those two interacted than just the usual 'Mori vs wizards' prejudices at work.  
  
         Julian chose to dodge the subject for now, replying only with a cryptic, [Let's just say that to him, I'm worse than Rauko.]  
  
         _Wow, is that possible?_ Harry wondered, steered back over to the couch by an attentive Julian while the others gathered in the living room awkwardly. Only Sirius seemed at home as he settled down on the floor right by Harry's legs, his tail thumping the floor rhythmically.  
  
         "I can't believe it," Tonks whispered. "You're really a Mori, Harry? When Dumbledore told us tonight, I was sure it was some big Halloween gag …"  
  
         "Wait a minute," Harry interrupted. "Dumbledore's telling people about me?"  
  
         Tonks looked a little hurt, and Harry was quick to assure her, "Of course, I don't mind that _you_ know, Tonks, but who else did he tell?"  
  
         "Everyone in the Order," Remus answered, holding up a hand when Harry looked as if he was about to explode into a rant. "It was necessary, Harry. Albus had little choice after you were kidnapped from the school."  
  
         Julian made a sound between a laugh and a cough, clearly in on the joke (or lack thereof, from the non-Mori point of view), but Harry was absolutely befuddled.   
  
         "Kidnapped? I wasn't kidnapped. Rauko just brought me here to - " Harry froze mid-sentence, then groaned and buried his head in his hands. He should have known that no one at the school would have been willing to let him come here if they'd had any choice in the matter. What had Rauko said? ' _That foolish Headmaster of yours left only two young ones to guard you._ ' No doubt it was Ron and Hermione that Rauko referred to. He could just imagine how surreal an experience that had been for his two friends, having the Mori leader himself pop in and snatch Harry away.  
  
         "This Rauko told Dumbledore that if he wanted to get you back, he'd have to set up a meeting in a safe place, and Dumbledore figured that Headquarters was as good a place as any … especially if there's a possibility of … err, joining forces," Tonks continued the explanation. She held up a folded piece of parchment. "And the invitation's right here. But where's the big bad leader himself? I'm supposed to give this to - _ack!!_ "  
  
         The parchment had been deftly snatched from Tonks' raised hand when the shadows behind her parted and Rauko himself appeared, followed by a familiar-looking morwen with chestnut curls that fell to her waist and bright blue eyes that were currently somber and subdued. Harry recognized her as Lisette, Aiya's mother, whose likeness he'd seen in a painting in Aiya's rooms. Tensions were renewed between the two groups as Rauko's intimidating presence filled the room, putting even Sirius on edge as he raised his head and growled.  
  
         "We accept the invitation," Rauko said smoothly, and Harry could have sworn he heard Tonks sigh girlishly in appreciation of that sultry, seductive voice, "though we ask that Harry remain in our custody until we have all reached this …," he glanced at the parchment, "… Number 12 Grimmauld Place."  
  
         Remus stepped forward, either to argue this unfair condition or to emphasize the importance of the secret that the parchment contained, but Tonks was quick to shoulder in and maneuver the werewolf towards the door. "Ahh yes, that's great then, we'll just leave you to follow us then, eh? Brilliant."  
  
         Sirius whined, wanting to stay with Harry, but oddly enough it was Julian who took pity on him and suggested that Harry, Dorian, and Sirius ride over to the meeting in his car, since it wasn't advisable for Dorian to travel in the void so soon after spending long hours hiding on a threshold. That way, Harry would remain under Mori care, but it wouldn't exclude Sirius from traveling with him (as it would have had they taken the void).  
  
         Harry only half-listened as the details were ironed out, his brain stuck on one thought and one thought only ….  
  
         _Where was Severus?_


	34. An Uneasy Alliance

 

         The drive to Number 12 Grimmauld Place was interesting only because it felt so normal and mundane in contrast to the night's previous events. Harry and Dorian were safely settled in the backseat, Dorian still slumbering peacefully in a car seat they'd taken from the Lennox family car, while Sirius as Padfoot had curled up on the front seat next to Julian. A travel bag for Dorian full of clothes and toys and a few photographs had been stowed by Harry's feet, and Harry himself had been the reluctant inheritor of a pair of shoes and an overcoat that had once belonged to Andrew Lennox, all at Julian's insistence.   
  
         "Can't have you barefoot and half-dressed in this cold weather," he had reasonably pointed out, and Harry had eventually agreed, but it still felt strange for him to be wearing a dead person's clothes.  
  
         Even stranger was Padfoot's reaction to Julian. There had seemed to be a silent communication occurring between the two of them as everyone loaded into Julian's car, a connection that existed separate from the telepathic link of the Mori, but when Harry asked Julian about it as they pulled out of the driveway and onto Willowbrooke Lane, Julian had responded in a tone that could only be thought of as bittersweet, his answer as cryptic as when Harry had asked him about the tension with Remus.  
  
         "He won't be so happy to see me when he's back in human form, will you Padfoot?" Julian stroked a hand over the dog's black fur and smirked when Padfoot trembled beneath his touch. He returned his hand to the steering wheel, his eyes shifting to a warm chocolate brown as he murmured, "A pity, that."  
  
         Harry frowned but didn't press the issue. He couldn't accuse Julian of hiding anything from him because Julian's mind was completely open to him. There were no barriers or barricades designed to keep Harry out of his thoughts, but Harry couldn't bring himself to invade anyone's mind simply to satisfy his own curiosity. Instead, he changed the subject.  
  
         "Your last name is Thorpe. Does that mean you were turned?"  
  
         Julian smiled. "No, I've only had that name for the last fifteen years. It'll be time to retire it soon and start fresh somewhere else. Before it was Thorpe, it was Carrington, and before that it was Smythe … and the list goes on, but I was born Julian Shadowclaw. I'm a natural-born."  
  
         "Have you always been an detective?"  
  
         "Not always, but for the better part of a century. It appeals to my instincts … the challenge of the hunt, the thrill of the chase." That feral yellow gleam returned to Julian's eyes. "Not to mention the advantages of being in a position of authority within the human world, a far cry from the old days when we were second-class citizens in the wizarding world."  
  
         Harry nodded, a little surprised that Julian was as old as his words implied. Julian's job reminded him a lot of the Ministry jobs that dealt with keeping Muggles ignorant of the wizarding world, but it had to be somewhat depressing to build a career only to have to abandon it and start over at the very beginning somewhere else. Was that what his own life was going to be like? He leaned back in his seat, tugging idly at the seat belt strapped over his chest and looking out the window at the blur of dark houses as they sped through the London streets.  
  
         "I want to warn you, Harry," Julian suddenly spoke up, his gaze golden now as it sought Harry's reflection in the rear-view mirror, "that it's going to be tough to come to terms with what it means to be a Mori. I'm sure you've already experienced a taste of it, but there are hard times ahead and I just want you to know that I'm here for you if you need someone to talk to. I don't believe in sugar-coating the truth, so if you ask me a question, I promise to answer it as honestly as I can. Rauko means well, but his methods aren't always admirable. He has a tendency to play puppet-master, so watch out."  
  
         "Are you speaking from experience?" Harry had a million other questions he wanted to pose to Julian, but this was the first one to pop out of his mouth.  
  
         Julian turned his attention back to the road as he made a smooth left turn, taking them down a series of unlit back alleys. He pondered Harry's question, absently reaching out to scratch behind Padfoot's ears, then said with a quiet smile, "When I was very young - about your age, maybe a little older - I did the unthinkable and befriended a wizard. And not just any wizard, but a pureblood. This was before Lisette became one of us; until Rauko fell in love with her, it was forbidden to turn a wizard or a witch, so I had to keep the friendship a secret. We were very close, this wizard and I, and I think by the time it all ended I was half in love with him. But secrets are hard to keep among the Mori, and Rauko sees no shame in invading a mind when he suspects duplicity. He ripped my secret from me as easily as peeling the rind off an orange. I thought he would be furious with me, but instead he kept me off-balance with his charm, toying with my thoughts until I wasn't sure exactly why I wanted to remain friends with a wizard - a nasty _pureblood_ wizard - in the first place. Blinded by his words, I broke off the friendship myself. Like I said, I was young … and easily influenced by someone I'd come to idolize in my youth. I stayed away from wizards and witches after that."  
  
         "What happened to your friend?" Harry wasn't naïve. He'd read all those accounts of Rauko's atrocities against the wizarding world, and it wouldn't have shocked him to discover that Rauko had decided Julian's friend knew too much and needed to be dealt with in the _usual_ manner.  
  
         Julian raised a brow, glancing briefly at Harry through the mirror. "You mean, did Rauko kill him?"  
  
         "Err, well, yeah …"   
  
         Julian chuckled. "Anyone who has met Rauko knows he's capable of anything … even murdering a young wizard whose only crime was having an open mind and a warm heart. Yes, he'd go to any lengths to protect the Mori … but in this instance, he restrained himself. I don't know for sure, but I think he saw a little of what I saw in my friend, and he let him go, unharmed. I think it's that single act of mercy that allows me to forgive him for manipulating me like he did."  
  
         "Did you ever see your friend again?"  
  
         "No, but he's still alive. I imagine he has a snowy beard by now," Julian mused, the healing power of time allowing him to reflect on the memory of his friend with a smile and not the bitterness that Harry expected. He stroked his hand along Padfoot's sleek fur one last time, then placed both hands firmly on the steering wheel with a determined expression, as if refraining from touching the docile animal was some test of strength and willpower for him. When he spoke again, it was with that strange, bittersweet tone that had colored his words earlier. "Your godfather here has a distracting scent."  
  
         Harry frowned and leaned forward, sniffing at Padfoot, but all he smelled was a combination of Sirius's own masculine scent and a touch of something dark and primal, something Harry couldn't identify. Perhaps it was the ambiguous nature of the scent - hovering somewhere between human and canine - that had Julian so agitated. Padfoot, for his part, looked as offended as a dog can look, and he pointedly turned away from both of them, resting his head on his paws with a low, irritated growl.  
  
         [Was it something I said?] Julian's voice had reclaimed its former jovial tone. [I didn't mean to imply he smelled _bad_ … quite the opposite, in fact.]  
  
         Harry bit back a chuckle, responding in similar fashion while checking on Dorian, who was now starting to stir sleepily in his car seat. [I wouldn't bother trying to explain it to him. I'm sure he'll forget all about it once we get to Grimmauld Place for the meeting.]  
  
         [Now _that_ is a disaster just waiting to happen.] Julian sighed heavily, giving no doubt of his opinion of said meeting.  
  
         Harry hated to join in on Julian's cynical assessment, but he had to agree with the gloomy forecast. His only hope was that Severus would be waiting for him at Grimmauld Place along with the rest of the Order. He couldn't shake the feeling that the evening held a few more unpleasant revelations in store for him, and he desperately needed the reassurance that Severus was safe.  
  
         [He will be fine, Harry.] Julian's voice broke into Harry's trouble thoughts, and he realized he'd been projecting his fears a tad too loudly.   
  
         [I hope you're right,] Harry replied wearily, but soon he was distracted by a drowsy Dorian in need of his favorite stuffed animal (Harry had brought along the surviving giraffe toy on pure instinct), and concentrating on Dorian enabled Harry to push past his own anxieties, at least for the moment.  
  


*     *     *     *     *  


  
         Harry was the first to enter Grimmauld Place, a half-awake Dorian in his arms, with Julian right behind carrying Dorian's suitcase. Padfoot soon dashed ahead of them all, disappearing down the dark hallway. Seconds later, the sound of a door opening and closing could be heard, then the heavy tread of footsteps approaching. Dorian buried his face against Harry's neck, pressing fearful questions into Harry's mind.  
  
         [No one here is going to hurt you,] he assured him. To Julian he said, [I should find a bed for him before this meeting starts, and someone to watch him.] Who that someone would be, he wasn't sure ... _Kreacher?_ The idea was laughable.   
  
         "Well, I certainly wouldn't choose the person coming towards us," Julian said aloud, though in a stage whisper, bringing a grin to Harry's lips as he realized it was Mad-Eye Moody walking their way.  
  
         "I'll be taking your weapons," Moody barked out authoratively, though he did add in a gentler tone, "Hello there, Harry."  
  
         "Is everyone else already here?" Harry asked as Julian turned over his gun and a rather wicked-looking knife.   
  
         "Most of the Order came, but not all. Some of them have duties, while some …" he broke off, glancing at Julian.  
  
         Harry frowned. Even among the Order, there were those who would shun an alliance with the Mori? Was it out of fear? Or something else?  
  
         "Is your Dumbledore prepared to vouch for them?" Julian asked icily, clearly as disturbed as Harry that even among supposed allies they would be facing extreme prejudice.  
  
         "Dumbledore knows what he's doing," Moody snapped right back, and Harry realized that this little confrontation was undoubtedly going to set the tone for the evening. He suffered the first twinges of what was sure to become a full-blown headache by the meeting's end.  
  
         "I need to put Dorian to bed," Harry interjected, determined to prevent an argument. "And I need someone to watch him. Can anyone be spared from the meeting?"  
  
         "I'll watch him, Harry," a feminine voice said, and Harry looked past Moody's shoulder to see Tonks coming towards them. She cooed over the adorable Mori child still clinging shyly to Harry's neck before smiling brightly at Julian. "How old is he?"  
  
         Julian seemed stunned at first to have an unfamiliar witch acting so friendly towards him, but he quickly recovered and replied with a smile of his own, "He turned four this past March."  
  
         Moody harrumphed, bringing everyone's focus back to him. He pinned Julian with a hard stare, then gestured down the hallway. "Meeting's this way."  
  
         "So much for polite conversation," Julian said, though he directed this comment to Tonks, whose amused chuckle was quickly converted to a cough when Moody turned his stern glare on her. Julian handed her the suitcase with Dorian's things, then followed Moody down the dark hallway to the room where the meeting was being held.  
  
         "Are you sure it's alright for you to miss the meeting?" Harry asked as Tonks led the way up the stairs to where most of the empty bedrooms were located.  
  
         "Listening to a lot of bickering isn't exactly my idea of fun." Tonks paused at the first door to their left, glancing back at Harry expectantly.  
  
         Harry shook his head. "No, two doors down is better. It's right next to my room."  
  
         Tonks nodded and started walking again, resuming their conversation at the same time. "Remus promised to fill me in on anything important. I almost suggested he sit this one out, too. He's been on edge ever since we went to that house."  
  
         "Even more reason for you to be there," Harry persisted. "You can keep him calm."  
  
         Tonks blinked, stopping just outside the chosen room to turn and look at Harry. "You're really worried about this, aren't you."  
  
         "I'm worried about a lot of things," Harry said, brushing past her to open the bedroom door and carry Dorian inside the slightly musty room. Thankfully, Kreacher had been instructed to air out the upstairs rooms to accommodate the evening's guests, and fresh linens had been placed on all the beds, so Harry didn't have to worry about changing the sheets before settling Dorian into his temporary quarters.  
  
         "So who _did_ decide to come to the meeting?" he asked casually as he settled Dorian down for the night, tucking the sleepy-eyed morion into bed along with his toy giraffe. _Please say Severus is here, please say Severus is here …_ he repeated over and over in his mind, his calm demeanor belying the turbulent emotions building up inside him.  
  
         "Hmm, let's see …" Tonks put down the suitcase and flopped down into a chair next to the bed, placing her wand on the nearby nightstand. "Well, Moody and Remus, and Sirius obviously. And the Weasleys are here, and Kingsley, and Daedalus … oh! and Dumbledore, though I'm sure you'd already guessed that. He brought Ron and Hermione with him from the school, and that Malfoy boy, though I'm not sure why he's here. And there's a rather ill-looking morwen, but they keep giving her potions, so she's still sleeping in one of the other bedrooms right now. I'm not sure if she'll be at the meeting or not."  
  
         Harry's heart skipped a beat and he reached out for Aiya, finding her mind just as open and vulnerable as it had been the first time he'd tried to speak to her. _That must be one hell of a sleeping draught they gave her_ , he thought to himself, but to Tonks he voiced his opinion on Draco's presence. "I think I know why Malfoy's here, but it's a bit dangerous for him to be anywhere near Rauko. I hope Dumbledore has the sense to keep him out of sight."  
  
         "Rauko's the dreamy one with the purple eyes, right?" Tonks waggled her eyebrows, her wide grin coaxing a smaller smile out of Harry. "He's downstairs already, along with a woman … err, morwen … that Dumbledore seems to know pretty well."  
  
         "Her name's Lisette. She was a student at Hogwarts a long time ago." Harry shrugged out of the overcoat he'd worn during the drive from Willowbrooke Lane, folding it neatly and placing it on top of an old trunk at the foot of the bed, hoping that Tonks didn't notice the faint tremble in his hands as he lugged Dorian's suitcase over to the old dresser that stood on the far side of the room. Trying to sound non-chalant, he turned the topic back to his original line of questioning. "What about Snape? Is he coming?"  
  
         Tonks frowned, not realizing how important the question was to Harry as she dismissed it with a careless shrug. "Haven't seen him so far. Wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't show up. With Death Eaters on the move, he's probably been called back to old Snakeface."  
  
         Harry sat down on the edge of the bed to take a deep, calming breath, when suddenly five small fingers had curled their way around his left hand in a comforting grip. He looked down and saw Dorian staring up at him with wide blue eyes, an anxious expression marring the cherubic innocence of his face.  
  
         "It's okay, Dorian," he said, squeezing his hand gently. "I want you to get some sleep. Tonks is going to sit with you while I go talk with Julian and Rauko and some other people about what happened tonight."  
  
         Those cerulean eyes started to fill with tears, the small fingers tightening their hold on Harry's hand, but Tonks came to the rescue with her warm smile and childlike exuberance, drawing Dorian's attention as she petted the head of his toy giraffe.  
  
         "Who's your friend here, Dorian? Does he have a name?"   
  
         Dorian glanced between Harry and Tonks, struggling with his shyness before finally answering in a soft voice, "Geoffrey."  
  
         "Geoffrey, eh? That's a great name for a giraffe. I bet Geoffrey's feeling a little scared at being in a strange house, don't you think? I know _I_ would be scared. Do you want to hear how I'd make myself feel better?"  
  
         Dorian's vise-like grip on Harry's hand started to weaken as he gazed up at Tonks, indulging only in a brief nod to answer her question, but it was an encouraging sign to Harry that he was leaving Dorian in good hands.   
  
         "Well, I like to tell myself all sorts of silly stories to take my mind off being scared, and before I know it, I'm asleep! Would you like to hear one?" And to Harry's immense relief, Dorian flashed a brief, fragile smile and nodded his head.  
  
         Harry grinned, not only out of gratitude that Dorian had let go of his hand without tears, but also because he could imagine all the ridiculous adventures Tonks had dreamed up in her head over the years. He almost regretted that he had to leave and miss out on 'storytime,' but he crept out of the room all the same, feeling again that unfamiliar ache in his heart as he left Dorian in the care of someone else, similar to what he'd experienced when giving Melony over to Rauko.   
  
         _It's just been a long night_ , he told himself as he walked down the hallway, running a hand through his dark hair as a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. _About to get even longer …_  
  
         "And where is Severus?" he hissed out of frustration, unable to keep a lid on his fear any longer.  
  
         "He got called away, Harry." Hermione stood in the doorway of one of the many upstairs bedrooms, backlit by lamplight. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand, holding the door open for him as he crossed the hall towards her, then shutting it quickly behind him once he was completely inside.  
  
         "We're not supposed to let anyone into the room," she explained when Harry gave her a puzzled look, but as soon as he turned away from her to get a better look at his surroundings, he understood why.  
  
         Aiya lay comatose on the bed beneath a dark green coverlet, her dark hair spread across the pillow in disarray. She was breathing regularly but shallowly, a sickly pallor to her skin, but Harry could sense no distress or trauma from her - whatever potion she'd been given, it was incredibly strong. Draco sat slumped in an armchair that had been dragged across the wooden floor to the bed, looking oddly rumpled in his disheveled blue dress robes with his white-blond hair mussed and disorderly. He didn't look up at Harry's entrance, his slate-gray gaze focused on Aiya, a pained expression on his pale, pointed face. Ron, who had been leaning against the far wall and gazing out the window at the street below, regarded Harry with a mixture of relief and … embarrassment?   
  
         "Took you long enough to get here," he muttered.  
  
         "Had to take a car," Harry said slowly, his green eyes narrowing as Ron shuffled his feet and avoided looking Harry in the face. "Everything alright?"  
  
         Hermione sighed, handing Harry his schoolbag. "I brought some of your things, including your wand. And my _notes_ ," she glared at him with all the righteous fury of a teacher whose student has neglected to do his homework, "are in there as well."  
  
         Harry smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while taking the bag from Hermione with the other. "Yes, about those notes …"  
  
         "Didn't read them, did you?" Hermione put her hands on her hips, adopting a very motherly frown of disapproval that would have made Mrs. Weasley proud.  
  
         "Hey, I read … _some_ of them," Harry tried to defend himself, but his heart really wasn't in it. "It's fine, though. I'll make them my first priority once we're back at school."  
  
         Ron made a strangled sound low in his throat and looked away, prompting Harry to throw his hands in the air with an aggravated huff. "What's with you two? So I procrastinated a little -- I've had a lot on my mind lately."  
  
         "Harry, I think you should sit down," Hermione said, having learned her lesson the first time when it came to doling out shocking news.  
  
         "Yeah, mate," Ron agreed with his girlfriend's suggestion, gingerly touching the back of his head in remembrance, "better do as she says. Believe me, you don't want to be standing up when you hear this."  
  
         [Harry, I need you to come downstairs. You can talk to your friends later.]  
  
         Rauko's voice permeated Harry's mind and drowned out the sound of Hermione's voice as she steered him to an empty chair and chattered on about the extraordinary adaptive capabilities of the Mori and something about how the male of the species had evolved drastically in the last few centuries, all of it sounding garbled and distorted to Harry's ears.  
  
         [ _Now_ , Harry,] came the more insistent command, rousing Harry's temper, and he popped up out of the chair.  
  
         "Fine, fine, I'm coming," he snapped, much to the puzzlement of his friends, his unexpected outburst capturing even Draco's attention.  
  
         "But wait, Harry, we haven't told you the most important part - " Hermione tried to stop him, but Harry had slung his schoolbag onto his shoulder and was opening the door, leaving Ron and Hermione little choice but to follow him as he left Aiya's room and stomped down the stairs, leading them to the room where the meeting between the Mori and the Order would take place.  
  
         He threw open the door, green eyes blazing, and tossed his schoolbag onto a ratty sofa shoved into a corner of the room. The main piece of furniture in this particular room of the house was its long, oaken table, several chairs set up on either side and one at each end, but the wizards and witches assembled had crowded themselves along the right side of the table while the three Mori representatives were seated on the left. Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, idly stroking his long white beard, but he raised his hands to Harry in welcome when he saw him standing in the doorway.  
  
         "Ahh, here you are, Harry. We were beginning to wonder about you."  
  
         [You could have just explained that everyone was waiting for me to get here before the meeting could start,] Harry scolded Rauko, but to Dumbledore he only nodded and took the seat opposite him, not wanting to choose between sitting on the Mori side or the wizarding side of the table. Ron and Hermione, he noticed, had no qualms about sitting on the left side of the table with the Mori, a show of solidarity that Harry was grateful for, though Ron did shoot Rauko several wary glances during the first few minutes of the meeting.  
  
         "We have a few more members on their way, and then we can begin," Dumbledore said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin and twinkling his blue eyes reassuringly at Harry.  
  
         [Did I leave out that particular part when I called for you? How careless of me.] Rauko didn't sound the least bit sorry as he responded to Harry's criticism, adding with a hint of laughter, [And drop your glamours. It isn't polite to disguise yourself in front of allies.]  
  
         Apparently, he gave similar instructions to Julian, who responded with the exact same roll of his eyes that Harry did. He heard several gasps from the right side of the room as the years melted away from Julian's face, his eyes brightening to an almost electric shade of yellow before mellowing into a tawny brown. Harry's own glamours were much weaker, and therefore didn't cause the same stir of excitement and wonder, but he did get a pair of cheeky grins from Fred and George as they breezed into the room with a disgruntled Sirius in tow.   
  
         "Going for a new look, are you Harry?" Fred asked with a wink, tickling the pointed tip of Harry's ear before Harry slapped his hand away. He and George hunkered down on the left side of the table with Ron and Hermione, while Sirius pulled up a chair next to Harry.  
  
         "Where've you been?" Harry asked him in a whisper. He'd thought for sure that Sirius had come straight to the meeting room.  
  
         "Had something to take care of," Sirius murmured, glancing uncomfortably at Julian before turning back to Harry with a grin. "It's good to have you back, Harry, though I wish it could be under better circumstances." He paused, gave Harry a good once-over, then said with a lift of his black brows. "You've put on a bit of weight since the summer, I see. Not quite as scrawny as you used to be …"  
  
         "Have I?" Harry looked down at his pajama-clad torso, but then Dumbledore was calling the meeting to order and all casual conversation came to an end.  
  
         Introductions were made in a somewhat perfunctory manner, as if Dumbledore wanted to get to the heart of the matter as hastily as possible, perhaps to limit the opportunity for confrontation between the two factions, but when Julian introduced himself the meeting hit its first snag.  
  
         "You brought a Shadowclaw into a meeting with a werewolf present?" Kingsley Shacklebolt gave Dumbledore an incredulous look, and Harry leaned forward, thinking that at last he would get an explanation as to why Remus and Julian had been so antagonistic to each other upon first meeting at the Lennox home. He was even more intrigued when Kingsley crossed his arms over his chest and declared flatly, "He shouldn't be here. How can we have trust when his very presence could compromise one of our members?"  
  
         "There is no possible way that Julian could compromise your friend's mind without you realizing it," Lisette spoke up, her voice a pleasant blend of Elvish musicality and Scottish brogue.  
  
         "How can we be sure of that?" Kingsley refused to back down, his dark eyes narrowing distrustfully as he glanced from Lisette to Julian, the latter assuming a bored expression, as if he'd been expecting just such an outcry against his presence.  
  
         "She's telling the truth," Hermione chimed in, garnering herself the full attention of the entire room, though most notably from Rauko and Lisette, who seemed to be having a silent conversation between themselves as they listened to her speak. "Those born of the Shadowclaw bloodline do have a natural affinity towards all sorts of beasts and dark creatures, and they can exert a measure of control over nocturnal beasts, but the stronger the will of the creature, the harder it is to control it. We would all clearly be able to see Remus struggling against the invasion into his mind."  
  
         "Well put," Rauko said in a rumbling purr, sending a rush of pink into Hermione's cheeks, and Lisette smiled her agreement of her husband's praise.  
  
         "Can't you just …demonstrate, or something?" George put in his two cents, though he seemed more eager to see a Mori in action than to be convinced of anything. "You know, show us what it would look like?"  
  
         "Is that necessary?" Remus asked tiredly, not sounding too pleased with the idea, but Kingsley insisted that he wouldn't rest easy until he knew that Julian couldn't control Remus's mind without everyone knowing it.  
  
         Julian raked a hand through his hair, looking more like an irresponsible teenager now with his glamours gone and his wrinkled shirt half-untucked from his trousers. His eyes flickered between cat's-eye yellow and a richer golden-brown as he looked up from where he'd been staring disinterestedly at the rough-hewn table, shifting his gaze to Remus who abruptly dodged that intense stare, his own gaze roaming anywhere and everywhere in the room but desperately avoiding the primitive gleam of Julian's eyes. Beads of sweat dotted Remus's forehead, his eyes dilating to an extreme degree, leaving only the faintest amber ring around the black pupils that, finally, were captured by Julian's own feverish stare.   
  
         Remus began to shake his head this way and that, slowly at first, like he was trying to ease a crick out of his neck, but then the movements grew sharper and more agitated, a violent twitch that had Harry leaping to his feet and crying out, "That's enough!"  
  
         Julian immediately broke eye contact with Remus, breathing a bit heavily but otherwise much the same as he'd been before the 'demonstration' started. Remus took longer to recover, leaning back in his seat with an audible thump, a shaky hand covering his eyes as he pulled himself together.  
  
         [Did it hurt him when you were doing that?] Harry asked Julian, horrified.  
  
         [Not a physical pain,] Julian said haltingly, his voice sounding hoarse and wolfish in Harry's mind, as if he'd absorbed some of Remus's animalistic traits while digging around in his brain, [but the emotional trauma can leave permanent damage in prolonged cases. When trying to control an unwilling beast, the goal is to break the mind. It's nothing I'd wish on any creature, human or animal.]  
  
         Harry felt Sirius tug on his sleeve and realized he was still standing. Reclaiming his seat, he looked over at Kingsley. "Satisfied?"  
  
         "Quite," Kingsley replied, thoroughly chastened by what he'd witnessed.  
  
         "Then let us proceed," Dumbledore said, turning his blue gaze on Harry. "I think we should begin by hearing Harry's version of what occurred tonight."  
  
         Harry swallowed at the sudden lump in his throat, not sure he had the strength or the stamina to venture back into that dark place in his mind where the memories of Andrew's and Callie's deaths were stored away. He looked down at his hands, his fingers still trembling as he suffered the slow build of dark energy that only Severus's touch could disperse safely.   
  
         [It will help you to speak about what you saw,] a gentle voice eased its way into his thoughts, and he looked up to see Lisette smiling at him encouragingly. [Think of it as cleaning a wound … it is painful at the time, but it is also the only way your wound will properly heal.]  
  
         Harry took a deep breath and nodded, proceeding to tell the story of how Andrew's death had come in a vision to him during the Halloween Feast, then of his vision of the room where Callie was being held and her torture at the hands of Voldemort. He made sure to expand on Lucius's role in the kidnapping, detailing the wizard's use of house-elves in identifying the Mori family, wanting to emphasize that the man who continued to hold sway in the Ministry of Magic was the same man who was primarily responsible for the three deaths that had occurred that night. When he got to the part where Callie sacrificed herself, his throat closed up and tears burned behind his eyelids, and he could hear someone else - Mrs. Weasley, he thought - crying quietly. When he felt he could go on, he described the spell, but could not bring himself to describe the way the light had ravaged Callie's body or how the last image he could recall was of the pile of her charred bones and ashes.  
  
         "What a terrible choice she had to make," Mr. Weasley said with a sad shake of his head, others along the right side of the table nodding along with his sentiment.  
  
         "Any mother would make the same choice," Mrs. Weasley said, and for the first time Harry saw hope in this alliance between wizards and Mori. It was Callie, with her bravery and her sacrifice, who was managing to bring the two sides together, but it was still a fragile understanding and the least sign of trouble could break it apart once more.  
  
         "There's more bad news, I'm afraid," Harry said after wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top. "Callie mentioned Aiya's name, and Lucius recognized it."  
  
         "He knows she's alive, then," Rauko's voice was smooth and unruffled, but his hands were clenched into tight fists, "or at the very least, he guesses. But why should this be a problem? He must believe her to be safe with her own kind, so where is the danger to her?"  
  
         "Because Voldemort knows I was there," Harry said, not caring that some of the wizards and witches flinched upon hearing the Dark Lord's name, "and Callie couldn't control her speech at times, so he knows she was talking to someone during the time of her torture. Once he puts two and two together, he's going to realize I'm somehow involved. It won't be safe for Aiya at Hogwarts."  
  
         Everyone started talking loudly all at once, some of them concerned for Aiya, others troubled by Harry's revelation that Voldemort had sensed his presence, but Dumbledore quickly regained a semblance of order as he rapped on the wooden table three times.  
  
         "You say Voldemort knew you were there, Harry. Did he discover anything else?"  
  
         "I didn't let him into my mind, if that's what you mean," Harry said defensively, then softened his tone as he admitted, "but it was close. I wasn't strong enough to fight him off, so I had to use a Mori spell."  
  
         "He used _amin naa ungue_ ," Rauko said with fatherly pride. "It is a very difficult but efficient spell used by the Mori when avoiding interrogation. It temporarily rids the mind of all thought."  
  
         "That reminds me," Harry said, remembering how he'd felt when he woke up, "I thought the spell would continue to affect me once I was awake, but when I opened my eyes, I felt … peaceful and warm … and loved."  
  
         Hermione blushed but didn't say anything, leaving Ron to be the one to reveal to Harry and everyone else how Hermione had cursed him.  
  
         "You should have seen her face afterwards," Ron said with a snicker, but the twins were looking at Hermione with newfound respect - after all, she'd used an Unforgivable on her best friend as a way to heal him, and the ridiculousness of it all appealed to the twins' warped sense of humor.  
  
         But Ron wasn't finished. "And then Rauko showed up and snatched Harry away, and all Hermione could talk about was how mad she was that Harry hadn't read her notes, and how he'd gone and got himself pregnant - "  
  
         Hermione clapped a hand over Ron's mouth, but the damage had already been done. The outbreak of skepticism from the right side of the room was a harsh contrast to the strained silence of the three Mori representatives, though to be fair, Julian and Lisette had only just learned of Harry's condition that evening. Wizards and witches alike were protesting the very idea of what Ron had unwittingly revealed.  
  
         " _Pregnant?_ How in Hades is that possible?"  
  
         "Is that supposed to be a joke, Ron?"  
  
         "It's not in very good taste, if it is."  
  
         "Sweet Circe, someone get Harry a glass of water. Poor lad looks like he's going to faint." This from Daedalus Diggle, the only one who had noticed Harry's white-faced shock amidst the uproar.  
  
         "Oh Harry, we tried to tell you upstairs," Hermione said sorrowfully.  
  
         Harry barely heard her, so wrapped up in his own fervent denial of what Ron had blurted out to the entire room. _But_ … it was impossible to dismiss all the signs: the fatigue, the nausea, and then Julian's reaction to Harry and his mention of a 'condition.' _And the dream_ … It was all too clear to Harry now that what Ron said was undoubtedly true. He was pregnant. But how? It defied all logic, even when he put it in Mori terms. Hadn't Aiya said that only natural-borns went through breeding cycles? So how could this have happened to Harry?  
  
         [I wanted to tell you myself,] Rauko forced his way into Harry's muddled brain. [The seahorse, Harry, was only a confirmation of something I'd suspected since I first met you. You are unlike any Mori who has come before … the next step in the evolution of our race. I told you before - you are the future of the Mori.]  
  
         "You suspected this … all along?" Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet, his eyes bleeding from one shade of green to the next at an alarming rate. The table began to creak and groan under the tremor of Harry's hands as he pressed them against the wood, but Harry didn't notice as he confronted Rauko. "You even encouraged me to … to …" but he couldn't bring himself to say the word 'mate' in front of everyone, "and then, even after I tell you about the card I picked up, you _still_ kept it a secret from me? Why?"  
  
         [Harry, you must calm down,] Rauko said strictly.  
  
         "Calm down? _Calm down?!_ " Harry kicked back his chair, sending it flying to crash against the wall behind him. "I'm going to have a baby, for Merlin's sake! Don't you think this is something you could have mentioned to me a little sooner?"  
  
         Most of the occupants of the room were bewildered by Harry's one-sided rants, but Sirius had quickly overcome his original state of disbelief to ask the question that was on the minds of several of the Order members. "If Harry is pregnant, who is the father?"  
  
         Harry froze, and the table ceased its tortured groans as he backed away from it, wobbling unsteadily on his feet.  
  
         "Harry, do sit down," Hermione was saying anxiously, offering him her seat, but Harry couldn't look away from his godfather's expectant face.  
  
         Sirius waited impatiently for Harry's answer; when he was met with only a frightened silence, he turned to the next obvious choice for information. "Albus? Surely you have an idea of who it is?"  
  
         "I do," Dumbledore said quietly, "but it is not my secret to tell."  
  
         Sirius growled, slamming his fist down on the table. "Well, somebody needs to give me some answers!"  
  
         [I don't feel …] "… so good," Harry said sluggishly, unable to differentiate anymore between when he was speaking silently and when he was speaking out loud.  
  
         "He's going into shock," he heard someone - Lisette? - say, and then warm hands were bundling him up in a soft black robe and leading him over to the ratty sofa where he'd tossed his schoolbag.   
  
         "Everyone clear the room for now. We will resume the meeting as soon as Miss Graham - ahh, excuse me - _Mrs. Evernight_ gives the word." That was Dumbledore, of course, and Sirius in the background talking in angry tones that soon faded from Harry's hearing. Eventually, the only things he could hear were his own breathing and the soft voice of Lisette as she directed someone to fetch her several herbs for a tea she planned to make Harry drink.  
  
         [Am I .. ] ".. really going to …" [… have a baby?] It hurt Harry's head just to get that one sentence out, still incredibly disoriented after such a life-changing revelation.  
  
         "Yes, you are." Lisette's hand was cool and refreshing against Harry's flushed skin as she checked his temperature. "Morions have notoriously short gestation periods and often go into premature labor, so I would estimate you have another five or six months before your child is born." A long pause, filled only by the crackle of the fire in the hearth, then Lisette added regretfully, "It is a terrible thing my husband did, not warning you that this could happen. Aiya will be furious with him, and no doubt take a bit of the blame upon herself. Until you, only natural-born morions had the ability to conceive. Had she suspected this was possible, she would have cautioned you from the beginning."  
  
         Harry opened his eyes, facing a fuzzy and blurry world for several seconds before everything righted itself once more and his brain wasn't nearly as jumbled. He was still angry at Rauko - hadn't Julian warned him that the Mori leader was a puppet-master? - but his first and foremost thoughts were of Severus. How was he going to tell him about this? They hadn't even reached the point in their relationship of saying ' _I love you_ ,' but here Harry had to tell Severus ' _I'm having your baby_ '?   
  
         And Sirius. How was he going to break the news to Sirius that his godson was sleeping with a man he absolutely detested? And that Severus was the father of Harry's baby?   
  
         "I'm going to have a baby," Harry said it aloud, as if by speaking the words would make it easier to accept. Unfortunately, it only made him feel ridiculous, but he did feel a little better when he rubbed his hand over his flat stomach in soothing circles. The unconscious action made sense to him now, but being enlightened on why he was doing something didn't change the fact that the reason for it terrified Harry.  
  
         He played the part of the good patient, listening to all of Lisette's instructions and drinking every last drop of the bitter tea she gave him, and before long he was feeling more himself again … well, as much like himself as he could feel when faced with the reality of being a medical miracle.  
  
         "Shall I call everyone back in?" Lisette asked him gently. She saw how Harry hesitated, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment, and she smiled kindly. "I can tell them you aren't up to it, if you like."  
  
         Harry huddled down into the robes that were still wrapped around his body, seriously considering Lisette's offer, but the choice was stolen from him as the door to the meeting room burst open and Hermione ran inside.  
  
         "Come quick," she said to Lisette, sparing Harry a distressed glance. "It's Professor Snape. He's in a lot of pain, and there's so much blood …."  
  
         Harry struggled to his feet despite the protests of both the women in the room, shoving past their restraining hands as he staggered out of the room, the black robe falling from his shoulders as he hurried down the hallway. Raised voices were filling the air, seeming to come from upstairs, and Harry followed the sounds to the first room on the left, the one he'd rejected for Dorian, a small bedroom where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore, Remus, and Sirius were all gathered around a dark-robed figure lying very still and motionless on the bed, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only visible sign of life.  
  
         [Severus?] Harry whispered fearfully into his lover's mind, mindful of the barriers that still existed between them, perhaps Severus's way of protecting Harry from feeling any of his pain. The man on the bed groaned and tried to sit up, ignoring the protests of the people surrounding him, but it was all the confirmation Harry needed to run into the room and squeeze past the two astounded Weasleys in his determination to get to Severus's side.  
  
         Several bleeding gashes crisscrossed Severus's chest, arms, and face, his skin swollen and mottled where the wounds were deepest, and Harry was distinctly reminded of the gouged faces of the football stars on the posters in Dorian's room. There was a fading scent of _Crucio_ on Severus's skin, but whatever spell had been used in the more recent attack on him was foreign to Harry's senses.   
  
         "Harry, you should not be in here," Dumbledore said kindly but firmly, and he moved to pull Harry away from Severus's side, but he quickly drew his hand away when Harry hissed and bared his teeth, acting purely on instinct in a way that might have ashamed him had he been in a more rational state of mind.  
  
         "What's going on here?" Sirius, too, reached for Harry, but he shrank away from his godfather's touch, not threatening him as he had Dumbledore but warning him off with a fierce glare before returning to his protective hovering over Severus.  
  
         "I think we've discovered the father of Harry's child," Remus said quietly, and he wisely led a bewildered Sirius out of the room before the information could fully sink in.  
  
         [Child?] The single questioning word was all Severus could manage to press into Harry's mind before he lost consciousness.

 


	35. A Rift In The Order

 

         “I want him out of my house. _Now!_ ” 

         Sirius paced the hallway like a caged tiger, shooting murderous glares at the door to the room where Severus was being kept. Standing between Sirius and said door were Remus, Dumbledore, and Arthur Weasley. Mrs. Weasley had hurried downstairs to advise the other Order members that it was unlikely that the meeting would be resumed any time soon, but a continuation was planned for the following evening. The Mori guests were invited to stay at Grimmauld Place for the duration, an invitation that Rauko politely accepted on behalf of himself, his wife (currently tending to Severus’s wounds), and Julian. Normally, such duties would have fallen to Sirius, being the house’s owner, but he was in no mood to play gracious host.  
  
         “I allow you to use this place as headquarters for the Order, but it is still _my home_ , and if I say that greasy, overgrown bat isn’t welcome here then _he is not welcome here_.”  
  
         Dumbledore stepped forward, placing a hand on Sirius’s shoulder as he spoke in a placating tone, “Please be reasonable – ”  
  
         “And _you_ ,” Sirius snarled, not even letting Dumbledore finish, batting away his hand angrily. “What did you get out of this, Albus? How did Snape buy your silence while he fucked my godson right under your nose?”  
  
         “Sirius!” Remus couldn’t believe the venom in his friend’s voice as Sirius confronted Dumbledore.  
  
         “Harry is an adult, Sirius,” Dumbledore said sternly, ignoring the insult as he sought to steer Sirius towards a calmer view of the matter. “It was his choice to form a relationship with Severus.”  
  
         “He may be seventeen but he’s still a teenager! And correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that teachers at Hogwarts weren’t allowed to fraternize with their students, no matter what age they are.”  
  
         For the first time, Dumbledore seemed at a loss for words, his lips pressing into a tight, thin line, but then the door to the temporary sickroom opened and Sirius bolted forward, lurching past Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley but caught fast by Remus at the last minute. A pale-faced Hermione hesitated in the doorway, her brown eyes wide and frightened, but then she cleared her throat and carried on with the task she’d been appointed to complete.  
  
        “Lisette needs some feverfew, fresh if possible.” She avoided looking at Sirius, her gaze downcast as she listed the healer’s other request. “She also says that the argument is upsetting Harry, and she asks that you continue it somewhere else.” Here, Hermione turned to Sirius pleadingly, “He really does look awful, and Lisette is worried that it will start affecting the baby and – ” she cut herself off when Remus shook his head at her, warning her that now was not a good time to mention Harry’s pregnancy, and, aside from a helpless sigh, she said nothing more.  
  
         “I’ll see to those herbs,” Arthur Weasley spoke up, and he disappeared down the stairs in search of the feverfew that Hermione had mentioned.  
  
         “What if it was one of _your_ children, Weasley?” Sirius called out after the retreating wizard while Remus continued to restrain him. “I doubt you’d be so quick to fetch him herbs if it was one of _your_ sons he’d buggered!”  
  
         A door down the hall swung open and Tonks leaned out into the hallway, the sound of muffled crying drifting out of the room behind her. When she spoke, it was in a hushed but irritated voice. “Sirius Black! I just managed to get this little one to sleep, and now you’ve gone and scared him half to death with your shouting. Keep it down, or I swear I’ll hex you!” And she disappeared again, the door closing with a firm bang.  
  
         “She means it, too,” Remus said with a half-smile. “I should know.”  
  
         “I’ll just go back inside,” Hermione said,eager to be as far from a volatile Sirius as possible, and she slipped back into the sickroom.  
  
         “You aren’t helping this situation by throwing a tantrum,” Remus said quietly once the three wizards were alone once more. “I’m not thrilled with this whole mess, either, but there is a better way to handle it.”  
  
         “Can you imagine what James would say if he were here? To think that Snape has … has _violated_ Harry like that … I just can’t understand why Harry would let him do that. Snivellus probably fed him one of his nasty potions. Why else would Harry go anywhere near him?”  
  
         “Sirius, listen to yourself! Do you actually believe Albus would allow Severus to drug Harry with potions for the sole purpose of sleeping with him?”  
  
         “I don’t know what I believe anymore,” Sirius growled, one arm still imprisoned in Remus’s tight grip. “But that worthless git isn’t going to get away with what he’s done.”  
  
         “Enough!” Dumbledore’s eyes blazed brightly for a brief moment, then he regained his composure and tried once more to reason with Sirius. “Don’t let your dislike of Severus blind you to the reality of the situation. Take some time to think about how your words and actions will affect Harry. Nothing can be decided right now, in any event. Whatever differences you and Severus have, they will have to wait to be resolved until he has recovered from his injuries.”  
  
         "Fine." Sirius jerked his arm free, straightening his robes as his gray eyes narrowed into a steely glare directed at Dumbledore. "Go on, then. Make him better. Then I can have the pleasure of killing him myself."  
  
         "Sirius, you cannot possibly mean – ” Dumbledore began, but Sirius cut him off with a grim smile.  
  
         "Can't I?" That cold smile curved wider. "Really, Albus, don't you read the Daily Prophet? Sirius Black - convicted murderer, alleged servant of the Dark Lord himself - and I can't possibly want to kill the man who dared to lay his hands on my godson? I have, as they say, killed for less."  
  
         "That wasn't you, Sirius." Remus argued, confused and alarmed by the way his friend was talking.  
  
         "No, but you certainly believed it easily enough back then," Sirius barked, his furious gaze traveling from one startled face to the next, daring either of the two wizards to dispute the fact that they had both, at one time, been convinced of his guilt. When he received no reply, he smirked, backing away from them towards the stairs. "So don't let me get in your way. Heal the bastard. Just be sure to let me know when he's back on his feet so I can thank him properly for seducing my godson." And with another flash of that bitter smile, he turned on his heel and stomped downstairs.  
  
         “In all that rambling, he did make a good point,” Remus said once Sirius was gone. He turned to Dumbledore with an accusatory glare. “You let this happen, and I doubt your only motivation was Harry’s happiness.”  
  
         Dumbledore's eyes were a cold, clear blue as he stared back at Remus. “My motivations, whatever they may be, are none of your concern.” Then, as if the long night had finally caught up with him, he sighed wearily. “Harry’s pregnancy, however … that is something even I never dreamed was possible. It is an unwelcome complication.”  
  
         Remus frowned, not convinced that the news was as bleak as Dumbledore found it to be, but as it was, he hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around the idea of Harry sleeping with Severus, let alone the two of them having a child together.  
  
         “You should put a guard on that door,” he warned him, and then he headed downstairs himself.  
  


*     *     *     *     *  


  
         “Mr. Weasley’s gone to look for the feverfew,” Hermione said after quickly shutting the door behind her. Just for good measure, she tapped the doorknob with her wand, locking it tightly. She started to add a silencing charm, but then she remembered that such charms were ineffective against Mori hearing. They would just have to hope that Sirius wouldn’t continue to rant and rave at the top of his lungs.  
  
         “Thank you, Miss Granger,” Lisette said, wiping her bloodstained hands on the skirt of her pale yellow gown. Her approach to healing the injured wizard in her care was such a hodge-podge of wizarding, Muggle, and Mori medicine that both Harry and Hermione were at a loss as to how to assist her, so they simply watched and waited, sometimes being given little tasks to perform such as the one Hermione had carried out.  
  
         Harry sat in a chair beside the bed, holding tightly to Severus’s hand. The worst of the gashes had been magically stitched and sealed with ease by Lisette, but whatever spell had been used to slice open Severus’s skin had also carried a secondary affliction that caused the wounds to fester at an accelerated rate. His face, alone, had escaped infection, and Lisette had expertly healed the wounds to the point that only thin pink scars remained. Severus hadn’t been so lucky with his chest and arms. Fever had quickly set in, and in his delirium all the barriers in his mind had crumbled away. Harry found himself assaulted with brief glimpses of Severus's bleak, lonely childhood and awkward, often humiliating, school years, the forced parade of images into his mind bringing a wet sting to his eyes.  
  
         To make matters worse, Harry could also feel the tug of Dorian’s mind on his own, the child terrified after being startled awake by Sirius’s tirade, but it was hard for him to comfort Dorian when Harry himself felt so close to despair. What if the damage done by the curse was incurable? What if Severus died?  
  
         [I’ve never lost a patient with these kinds of wounds in nearly sixty years of being a healer, and I’m certainly not going to start now,] Lisette pressed her calm, confident voice into Harry’s mind, and he wiped hastily at his cheeks with his free hand and nodded his acknowledgement and appreciation of Lisette’s words.  
  
         “Miss Granger, I have another request to make of you,” Lisette said to Hermione in that same untroubled tone.  
  
         “Anything,” Hermione said eagerly, tearing her gaze away from the sight of Harry’s pale, anguished face.  
  
         “I need some belladonna – freshness is not important – and any other plant of the Solanaceae family you can find. Well, mandrake root won’t be necessary, but aubergine, potato, petunia, capsicum … whatever you can get your hands on.”  
  
         Hermione looked as if she wanted to ask why Lisette needed deadly nightshade, but for once she kept her silence and simply obeyed without question, though she did seem reluctant to venture back out into the hallway where Sirius had nearly plowed into her in his attempt to break into the sickroom.  
  
         “I’ll get Ron to help me,” she said, touching Harry’s arm gently in farewell and favoring him with a warm, reassuring smile, then she walked to the door, unlocked it with a wave of her wand, and went off in search of her boyfriend and the assorted plants Lisette had requested, carefully locking the door behind her.  
  
         “Is the belladonna for Severus?” Harry asked anxiously, unaware that he’d started rubbing his stomach again.  
  
         “Don’t be silly,” Lisette said with a smile. “Belladonna would only impair his immune system and raise the levels of toxicity in his blood.”  
  
         Harry stared at her, confused. “Then why do you need it?”  
  
         “The solanine found in plants from the Solanaceae family is good for the baby. I often recommend expectant mothers – and fathers – to eat plants from the nightshade family; it will lessen the chance of birth defects caused by overexposure to sunlight.”  
  
         _Good for the baby_ , Harry thought dazedly, completely unaccustomed to the idea of another living being growing inside of him. He realized he had no clue how to take care of a child, especially a Mori child. He would have to start studying Hermione’s notes for an entirely different reason now – he needed to prepare himself for fatherhood (or was it motherhood?), and getting a firm grasp on his Mori heritage would be the first step.  
  
         “I had another reason for sending Miss Granger out of the room.” Lisette flicked her wand, bandaging Severus’s wounds, then turned her shrewd blue gaze on Harry. “I need to ask you a question, Harry, and I didn’t think you’d want your friend to hear your answer.”  
  
         Harry swallowed nervously. “What’s the question?”  
  
         Lisette placed a cool, wet cloth on Severus’s brow, then settled down for a brief rest in the only other chair in the room, a rickety rocking-chair that looked as if it had sent numerous infant generations of the Noble House of Black to a peaceful slumber over the years. “Mori blood contains powerful magic. Has Severus … that is, did there ever occur an instance when he might have ingested your blood? Perhaps … during mating?”  
  
         Harry blushed, suddenly very grateful that Lisette had sent Hermione out of the room. Avoiding the healer’s inquisitive blue gaze, he slowly nodded his head, remembering several heated encounters when Severus had tasted Harry’s blood, including during the recent coupling in one of the armchairs in their sitting room.  
  
         [No need to feel ashamed.] Lisette was smiling sweetly at him. She rarely strayed into his thoughts, mindspeaking to him only when he appeared to need the most emotional support. As soon as his embarrassment faded, she was back to speaking to him regularly. “Unlike humans, Mori do not fear blood diseases. Sharing blood is simply another way of sharing yourself with your mate. It isn’t an uncommon practice, especially among bloodlines like the Shadowclaws and the Blackwings who nurture that animalistic aspect of themselves.”  
  
         “But why did you need to know that?” Harry asked, his mortification quickly replaced with curiosity as he added, “And what made you suspect it in the first place?”  
  
         Lisette didn’t answer his questions right away, choosing instead to ask Harry another question of her own. “Do you recognize the scent of the spell on Severus’s skin?”  
  
         Harry frowned, sniffing lightly, but again he could only sense the barest remnants of _Crucio_ and something else he couldn’t identify, a sharp, bitter smell that was familiar but elusive. He sighed and shook his head. “I smell Cruciatus, but the other spell … I just can’t put my finger on it.”  
  
         “You’ve smelled it before,” Lisette said mysteriously. She didn’t keep Harry in the dark for long, though her next words were hard for him to believe. “It’s the Killing Curse – though obviously this time it failed to fulfill its purpose.”  
  
         Harry blinked, tightening his hold on Severus’s hand. Lisette had to be joking. A Killing Curse _never_ failed … well, aside from that time with Harry. “So you’re saying someone cast the Killing Curse on Severus, and instead of him dying instantly, this,” he gestured with his free hand to the numerous bandaged wounds on his lover’s body, “is what happened instead?”  
  
         “A Mori bond is a magical bond, Harry, and your deep connection to Severus serves as a form of protection for him, but that bond alone wouldn’t stop a Killing Curse. The same applies to your blood – consuming the blood of a Mori can provide limited protection against dark magic, but on its own it would never withstand the power of a Killing Curse. Combining the two _together_ , however … it _could_ be enough to prevent immediate death. Think of it in the terms of a beheading: if timed and executed correctly, one clean blow will render the victim lifeless in a virtually painless manner. But if something goes wrong – dull blade, bad aim – it makes for a brutal death, and one that involves increased physical trauma to the body. The protection of both blood and bond dulled the spell just enough to limit its damage to these wounds, not necessarily fatal on their own, but then the curse continued to fester – continued to try and kill Severus – which led him to his current state. Untended, the infection in his wounds would have swiftly overtaken him and he certainly would have died, but I’m confident that we intervened in time, and he should make a full recovery.”  
  
         “I don’t understand. Why would Voldemort try to kill him? If he believed Severus betrayed him, like if Lucius mentioned Severus’s past with Aiya and blamed him for the information leak back when the Mori city was in danger – well, wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to get whatever information he could out of Severus first? The single Cruciatus curse I smelled on him isn’t Voldemort’s style at all. I’ve witnessed his tortures through my visions. If Voldemort had ‘interrogated’ Severus, he wouldn’t have left his body so … _intact_.”  
  
         “Perhaps it wasn’t Voldemort who cast it. What if the curse wasn’t cast out of hate or anger, but … curiosity? Maybe the wizard who attacked him wanted to know if the Killing Curse would work on Severus.”  
  
         “You mean, maybe someone suspected Severus was a Mori?”  
  
         “And when the curse injured Severus, the wizard realized Severus _wasn’t_ immune to it, which answered his question. I still think your blood saved Severus’s life, but if the curse didn’t have the wizard’s full, determined will behind it – if it was an experiment, and not just cold-blooded murder – _that_ would have weakened the spell as well.” Lisette leaned back, rocking gently in the ancient chair as she mused over her own theory. “Of course, we won’t know what happened for certain until Severus wakes up.”  
  
         Harry winced as the shared memory of a toddler Severus being shouted at by his father over a spilled glass of milk flitted through his thoughts, and he brought the man’s hand to his lips, kissing the near-lifeless fingers before looking longingly at Severus’s face. “ _If_ he wakes up.”  
  
         _He will survive_ , a deep male voice drifted into Harry’s mind, disrupting yet another disturbing memory of neglect from Severus’s childhood. It was a familiar voice touched with melancholy, and the reassuring message it conveyed was enough to re-ignite the hope in Harry’s heart. _The other spirits have high hopes for your mate – they believe he is more than strong enough to endure what is to come … but it's your strength, Harry, that I'm grateful for. Thank you for everything you did for my family._  
  
         And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the voice was gone, and the rapping knock of knuckles on wood yanked Harry out of his reverie to glance fearfully at the door. After hearing Sirius growl and snarl out in the hallway about how much he’d enjoy finishing whatever some unknown Death Eater had started, he wasn’t about to let his godfather anywhere near Severus until he could defend himself, and maybe not even then.  
  
         “I have the feverfew,” came Mr. Weasley’s voice, followed by Hermione and Ron announcing the arrival of the rest of Lisette’s requested items.  
  
         Lisette smiled at Harry and stood up. “The feverfew will have him better in no time, Harry. You’ll see.”  
  
         Harry smiled back, sincerely this time as the crushing weight of worry and doubt lifted off his chest.. _Thank you, Andrew_ , he thought in silent gratitude towards the Mori spirit who had just given Harry the peace of mind that no amount of medical theorizing from Lisette or blindly hopeful assurances from Ron and Hermione could have provided.  
  


 

*     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         Downstairs, Sirius flung off his dark outer robes, the black shirt he wore underneath only half-buttoned and sloppily untucked from his trousers. He tossed the robes onto a nearby chair, drawing out his wand and snarling a furious, “Lumos,” to bring some light to a room that he rarely entered during the school year while Harry was away. During the summer and the holidays, it served its purpose as a ‘family’ room, the only room he’d had a hand in decorating aside from his own bedroom and sitting room upstairs, but while his godson was at school he usually kept the room closed up, a shadow-infested corner of the first floor that rarely had visitors, not even Kreacher.  
  
         The faint light emanating from the tip of his wand ghosted over shelves of books gone gray under a thick layer of dust, the ornately carved back of one chair embellished with cobwebs. A general air of disuse lingered about the room. The only natural light filtering into the living area was a bluish-silver beam of moonlight that had stolen inside through a large gap in the heavy burgundy drapes – a gap that Sirius didn’t remember leaving when he’d last closed up the room in August. And what was that heady herbal aroma that was filling his nostrils and making him slightly dizzy? The light of his wand caught the slow spill of smoke coming from the drapery-enclosed window seat across the room from him, and he could now feel a chill in the air, the barest whisper of a breeze against his cheeks as the drapes swayed in the moonlight.  
  
         “Is someone there?” The question came out harsher than he intended, his voice roughened by the raw anger pulsing through his veins. He held his wand high as he walked towards the half-hidden window seat, but he almost dropped it when the wand’s soft glow lit up a pair of yellow eyes in the shadows behind the drapery.  
  
         “Bloody hell!” He backed up a step, his first thought being that he’d stumbled on Crookshanks taking a cat-nap (the window seat was a favorite for the half-kneazle whenever Hermione visited Grimmauld Place), but then a face emerged from the shadows, followed by a long, athletic body, and it was the morion named Julian who stared up at Sirius, a hand-rolled cigarette held between the fingers of his left hand, the other clasped loosely on the open windowsill.  
  
         “Did I frighten you?” There was no apology in Julian’s voice, only a teasing lilt that reminded Sirius strongly of James Potter.  
  
         He quickly shrugged off the thought, already uncomfortable enough around Julian without bringing in comparisons between the deceptively youthful Mori and his murdered best friend. He pointed his wand at a nearby lamp and lit it, filling the room with a cheerful glow that banished many of the shadows that had concealed Julian from his sight. He noticed, with an odd sense of satisfaction, that the introduction of light erased the smug smile from Julian's expression as he blinked rapidly and glanced away from the lamp’s burning flame.  
  
         “Not a lot frightens me anymore,” he answered stonily. Not after Azkaban, where his worst nightmares had haunted him in that never-ending night created by the presence of the Dementors, a torturous existence he’d only been able to endure as Padfoot. He could count on one hand the things that terrified him now, and most of them revolved around something happening to Harry.  
  
         “No, I suppose it would be ridiculous to accuse a convicted mass-murderer of being scared of the dark,” Julian said with a return of that cocky grin, his eyes darkening from feral yellow to a warm, brown-sugar hue. He leaned back in the window seat, one leg propped up while the other dangled off the edge, taking another drag off his cigarette and exhaling the sweet-smelling smoke in one long stream as he studied Sirius with those inhuman eyes. “The infamous Sirius Black. Even outside the wizarding world, you’ve made quite a name for yourself. I’ve seen your mug-shot countless times, but it really doesn’t do you justice …”  
  
         Sirius tensed under Julian’s blatant appraisal. He didn’t know what it was about the dangerously alluring creature lounging in front of him that allowed Julian to get under his skin so effortlessly, but it had already caused him a good deal of discomfort and confusion, especially when all he’d been able to think about during the car ride to Grimmauld Place was how good it felt to have Julian’s hand stroking his fur – thoughts that he now accounted to Julian being a Shadowclaw.  
  
         _That’s right, it’s just that ‘natural affinity’ to animals business that Hermione mentioned_ , Sirius reassured himself, convincing himself that Julian only affected him that strangely when he was Padfoot.  
  
         Julian ignored Sirius’s uneasy silence, flicking the ash from his cigarette out the window before turning back to him, gesturing with that same hand as he asked, “This doesn’t bother you, does it?” A wry grin twisted his lips, a few strands of chestnut-brown slipping into his line of vision before he casually brushed them back. “It’s medicinal. Doctor’s orders.”  
  
         Sirius gave a disbelieving snort, which in turn caused Julian to raise his eyebrows in amused speculation, so that Sirius felt compelled to ask mockingly, “Are the Mori immune to lung disease?”  
  
         Julian laughed. “Not exactly, but I don’t smoke ‘Muggle’ cigarettes. This,” he held up the cigarette, “is mostly herbs – eyebright, mugwort – a special blend that Lisette makes. It eases some of the symptoms of Hemeralopia. Day-blindness,” he clarified at seeing Sirius’s puzzled expression. “It’s one of the more common birth defects among the Mori.”  
  
         “Birth defects,” Sirius repeated slowly, then he sank into a nearby armchair and buried his face in his hands, groaning, “Gods, Harry, what have you gotten yourself into?”  
  
         “As far as I can tell, Harry had no idea what he was getting himself into,” Julian said, taking one last drag off his cigarette before tamping it out on a small saucer he’d filched from the kitchen and setting both saucer and cigarette aside. He hopped down from the window seat, raking a hand through his hair as he continued in a serious tone, “so you should go easy on him.”  
  
         “Oh, is that what you think?” Sirius snarled as he looked up, eyes blazing.  
  
         Julian smirked, his eyes darkening to a chocolate brown. He didn’t seem the least put off by Sirius’s temper. “Yes, that’s what I think. I also think that if you fight him on the issue of Severus, you’re going to lose. Mori don’t give up their mates so easily.”  
  
         “They aren’t _mates_ ,” Sirius spat out the word in disgust. “Harry and Snivellus, a couple? It’s … it’s unnatural.”  
  
         “Wrong again.”  
  
         “I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”  
  
         “It isn’t my opinion – it’s a fact.”  
  
         “What would you know? You’ve only just met Harry.”  
  
         “And yet even I can sense how much he loves Severus.”  
  
         “ _He. Does. Not. Love. Him!_ ” Sirius choked out each furious word, surging to his feet and brandishing his wand threateningly in Julian’s face.  
  
         “You’re stunning when you’re angry,” Julian murmured cheekily, a glimpse of cat’s-eye yellow flickering in his gaze, and his bold comment robbed Sirius of his rage and left him gaping and speechless. Julian sighed, tilting his head to the side as he studied Sirius's perplexed expression, then he pushed forward with a bittersweet smile. “Deny it all you want, but Harry is very attached to the father of his child. Do you really want to force him to choose between you and Severus?”  
  
         Sirius lowered his wand. Julian’s words pricked at his memory. What was it that Aiya had told him back when she’d read for him at the beginning of this whole mess? _Something about a raven … and not forcing a choice on him that might tear him in two_ … He grew pale and looked away, feeling small and empty without the sustaining force of his anger. “He might choose me.”  
  
         “No,” Julian said sadly, reaching out to tenderly touch his cool fingers to Sirius’s warm cheek. “he won’t.”  
  
         Sirius growled and knocked Julian’s hand away. “I’m not going to listen to this any longer. Harry is my family, and I’m not letting anyone get in the way of that, especially not Snape.” He brushed past Julian, intending to stalk out the door and head up to his bedroom where he could find some solace, but Julian latched on to his arm and prevented him from leaving.  
  
         “Don’t make him choose, Sirius.” Julian’s golden gaze grew somber. “It would be devastating for Harry and bring nothing but suffering for you.”  
  
         Sirius hesitated, drawn in by the sincerity in Julian's voice, but then his gray eyes narrowed and he wrenched himself free of Julian’s grasp. Without another word, he turned his back on him and left the room.  
  


 

*     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         Harry woke from an unexpected nap to the sensation of long fingers stroking his hair, a gentle, loving touch that soothed him, now both physically and emotionally drained after such a harrowing night. Soon after Lisette had coaxed several mouthfuls of the feverfew concoction down Severus’s throat, his delirium had subsided, and nearly an hour later his fever had broken completely and relief had swept through the sickroom. Though the immediate danger had passed, Harry had refused to leave Severus’s bedside, and he’d claimed the chair beside the bed as his resting place for the night. At some point, the lure of sleep had been too tempting to resist, and he’d ended up half-sprawled onto the bed, his head near Severus’s chest and his back aching from the half-seated, half-lying position he’d passed out in.  
  
         “Is it morning already?” he asked sleepily, expecting Hermione or Lisette to answer, but instead he was greeted with a low, rich rumble of laughter.  
  
         “My estimate is that we’ve missed the morning altogether,” came the weak but ever-sensual drawl as those fingers continued to toy with Harry's silky hair.  
  
         “Severus?” Harry sat up quickly, wincing a little from the stabbing pains that shot down his back, but the sight of Severus awake and aware was too wonderful for Harry to pay any mind to something as insignificant as a few achy joints. Severus still looked sickly, his skin too pale and his eyes bright with unspoken pain, and Harry worried that it was the sting of Severus’s wounds that woke him. “Do you need me to fetch Lisette? I don’t think she left any potions in here to help with the pain …”  
  
         Severus smiled at him, his ashen complexion marred by what appeared to be pink scratches, the only traces left of the wounds to his face. His chest and arms were still heavily bandaged to prevent further infection, but Lisette had predicted that most of the scars left by those wounds, save for the three deepest gouges across his chest, would also fade with time.  
  
         “Don’t fetch her yet,” he said, brushing his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. “Just let me look at you.”  
  
         Harry’s cheeks reddened as Severus’s dark, hungry gaze roved over his face and down to his pajama-clad body, the hand that touched his cheek and his lips now drifting down to trace the line of his jaw, then the curve of his throat, until finally those fingertips stilled at the first button of Harry’s top, and Severus placed his palm against Harry’s chest, over his heart.  
  
         “I thought I would never get to touch you again,” Severus murmured, spellbound by the rhythmic thump of Harry’s heart beneath his fingers.  
  
         Harry’s breath caught on a sob, his tearful gasp drawing the inky stare of his lover, and Severus slid his hand up to again to Harry’s throat, clasping the back of his neck and tugging him down for a slow, sweet kiss.  
  
         [You can’t ever leave me,] Harry pressed the thought fiercely into Severus’s mind, not yet aware of the significance of that bond remaining wide open to him. [ _Ever_.] He deepened the kiss, possessing Severus’s mouth aggressively, and he might have risked injuring him further all for the sake of easing the white-hot desire consuming his body if the door hadn’t swung open and a red-faced Ron hadn’t squeaked in alarm, forcing Hermione to bump into him when he froze in the doorway.  
  
         “What? What is it – ” Hermione’s mouth snapped shut upon seeing Harry bent over Severus’s body, their mouths inches apart and both of them breathing heavily. She averted her gaze, cleared her throat loudly, then said with a hint of disapproval, “Professor Snape needs his rest, Harry. We came to get you for lunch.”  
  
         “I’m not hungry,” he said peevishly, his attention focused only on Severus.  
  
         “Harry James Potter!” Hermione pushed past Ron and took a firm stance at the foot of the bed, glaring at her friend with both hands on her hips. “You cannot skip meals like this! Think about the baby!”  
  
         Severus’s grip on Harry’s neck tightened painfully for a second or two. “Baby?”  
  
         Ron sighed and pulled a guilt-stricken Hermione back out of the room. “We make a perfect pair, you and I. Neither of us can keep our mouths shut.” He directed his penitent girlfriend into the hallway. “We’ll see you downstairs, Harry,” he said over his shoulder, then closed the door behind him.  
  
         “Baby?” Severus repeated once the two students were gone. His expression was unreadable, but Harry could feel his confusion and … fear? Was he scared? Severus closed his eyes, a frown creasing his brow. “Then my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me last night? Lupin really did say something about you having a child?”  
  
         “I just found out last night myself,” Harry said quietly, easing back into his chair. “I’m not sure how it happened – everyone seems to agree it should be impossible – but I am. Pregnant, I mean. With your baby.”  
  
         [My baby.] The thought echoed between both their minds, but Severus made no effort to block Harry or rebuild his barriers.  
  
         “I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet,” Harry said. “Ron sort of blurted it out at the meeting – in front of everyone – and I got a bit woozy, and then you were so injured that I couldn’t really think about anything else …” he trailed off when he realized Severus’s eyes were still shut tight, and he felt as if his heart had just somersaulted into his stomach. “You … you aren’t _angry_ , are you? I swear, Severus, I didn’t know it could happen."  
  
         Severus opened his eyes, shaken out of his own worries by the tremor in Harry’s voice, and he captured one of Harry's trembling hands with his own. “No, Harry, of course I’m not mad at you. I’m just … shocked.” He fell silent again, looking uncharacteristically dazed and lost, then Harry’s words suddenly clicked in his brain and he glanced sharply at him, speaking to Harry in the same demanding tone he used when interrogating Potions students. “You say _Weasley_ broke the news? How did he know? And why didn’t Aiya ever mention the fact that you could get pregnant?” He winced, squeezing his eyes shut again as he added silently, [And please tell me that all these worried thoughts you’re having about Black in the back of your mind are because he broke his neck and not because he knows about us sleeping together …]  
  
         Harry found himself sitting up straighter, responding instinctively to the way Severus had slipped into ‘professor mode,’ and he dutifully answered all his questions. “Ron heard about it from Hermione, who somehow figured it out after Rauko kidnapped me from the school so I could find Dorian – and that sneaky bastard knew I was pregnant all along, or at least suspected it could happen, and never said a word. Lisette says that since only natural-born males have been capable of becoming pregnant in the past, it wouldn’t have occurred to Aiya to warn me about it.”  
  
         He paused to take a breath after such a long, rambling explanation, then added with a disheartened sigh, “And yes, Sirius knows. He didn’t take it very well, I’m afraid.”  
  
         “Poor little puppy,” Severus said with heavy sarcasm, sounding more and more like his old, snarky self, but then he suffered another mental double-take, “Wait, when did Rauko kidnap you? And who is Dorian?”  
  
         Harry was glad to let the issue of Sirius go for now. “It’s a long story, and I don’t think you’re in any condition to hear it right now.”  
  
         Severus frowned, clearly doing his best to fight the pain and exhaustion that were threatening to drag him back into sleep. He persisted in wringing as much information out of Harry as he could. “Then what about this pregnancy? Will you be safe? How could they let you sleep in a _chair_ in your condition? And you can put any and all thoughts of Quidditch out of your head right now – I’ll throw your broom into the whomping willow myself if you even consider playing a match …”  
  
         Harry grinned and put a stop to Severus's rant with a repeat of that first lingering kiss, careful not to jar his body as he leaned over the bed and captured Severus’s lips tenderly. He was relieved that Severus hadn’t closed himself off after hearing about the pregnancy – in fact, Harry could still feel the tickle of Severus’s concern in his brain, as well as the icy fear that was now melting away under the heat of Harry’s kiss. A few last glimpses of old memories – thirteen-year-old Severus nursing a black eye; seven-year-old Severus huddled under his blankets as he listened to his mother crying in the next room – were unintentionally projected into Harry’s thoughts through Severus’s unguarded mind before being banished by the all-consuming passion that never failed to flare between them.  
  
         [If I thought I could manage it – ] Severus began huskily.  
  
         [ – you’d take me right here, right now.] Harry finished the thought as he pulled away, a knowing smile curving his kiss-swollen lips.  
  
         “Though no doubt Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger would walk in at an inconvenient moment to tell us that lunch was getting cold.” This said with a weak but ever-so-scornful smirk.  
  
         “I don’t think Ron’s going to forget to knock before opening a door ever again,” Harry contradicted with a wide grin. “Hermione, however … well, let’s just say I’m already on probation with her when it comes to taking her advice. She’d probably knock the door down and drag me out of here kicking and screaming.”  
  
         “Mmm, _screaming_.” Severus devoured Harry with his eyes, able to twist the word ‘screaming’ into something wickedly erotic with the slightest velvety inflection to his voice.  
  
         [Don’t start something you can’t finish,] Harry warned, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt cool fingers easing beneath the thin material of his pajama top to stroke lazy circles over his stomach.  
  
         “ _You_ started it,” Severus accused softly, his jet black eyes gleaming with an alluring mixture of pain and lust, but there was also an underlying drowsiness to each gesture and glance, as if he was only barely hanging on to consciousness, struggling against his body’s current limitations as they conflicted with his desire to touch and taste the morion hovering over him.  
  
         [Heads up, Little Brother.]  
  
         Harry stiffened and moved out of Severus’s reach just in time for the door to open.  
  
         “These constant interruptions are intolerable,” Severus snapped.  
  
         “I thought Mother said you were seriously injured last night,” Aiya said, standing in the doorway, a fragile smile on her face as she leaned against Draco for support. “Frankly, you sound as grouchy as you ever did – apparently your near-death experience did little to improve your personality.”  
  
         “Aiya!” Harry walked over to her and gave her a huge hug, secretly alarmed at how thin and frail she felt in his arms, but when he pulled back to get a good look at her face he was pleased to see the color back in her cheeks and a renewed liveliness to her eyes and expression. “When did you wake up?”  
  
         “Less than an hour ago,” she said, brushing Harry’s hair out of his eyes, and he could suddenly tell that she was blocking him – keeping him at arm’s length mentally while reassuring herself of his safety by physically touching him in small, insignificant ways.  
  
         [It’s okay,] he told her silently, knowing she wouldn’t want Severus or Draco to hear. [You don’t have to hold back. I know how much you loved her.]  
  
         Aiya’s chin trembled and she leaned forward so their foreheads touched, her arms wrapping around his neck in a loose embrace, but still she kept her barriers in place, as if the idea of opening up about her grief to Harry – to anyone – would mean accepting the fact that Callie was truly gone.  
  
         Harry sighed but didn’t press it, adding only, [She wanted me to tell you not to blame yourself. None of this was your fault, Aiya.]  
  
         She drew in a long, shuddering breath, her barriers slipping only for an instant, but long enough to give Harry a good idea of the guilt and dejection and even self-hatred that Aiya carried around in her heart. His dream from the night before seemed terrifyingly plausible now that he’d experienced a little of what Aiya was feeling, and he drew back from their embrace to look into her eyes, stating firmly, [This was not your fault. And I want you to promise me that you’ll never do anything foolish like give up or sacrifice yourself all because you feel you’re somehow to blame for this.]  
  
         She turned her head to the side, avoiding his gaze.  
  
         “ _Promise me_ ,” he insisted, startling both Severus and Draco with his sudden command, and Aiya finally relented.  
  
         “I promise, okay?” She quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hands then reached behind her to grab Draco’s hand and pull him further into the room with her. “Look, I need a place to stash Draco, and Mother suggested hiding him in here since she told Rauko to keep out of the sickroom.”  
  
         “Really keeps him on a leash, does she?” Harry asked with a vindictive smirk.   
  
         Aiya grinned. “A very short one.”  
  
         “Listen, that’s all well and good, but what if I don’t want to hide?” Draco asked crossly.  
  
         Harry snorted. “You want to have a run-in with Rauko? I thought Slytherins were supposed to be clever.”  
  
         Aiya ignored them both and kept talking. “I’m sure he knows Draco is somewhere in the house by now – he’s been picking at my brain like crazy, I can tell – but even if he knows Draco’s in here, he won’t dare come in now that Mother told him not to.”  
  
         “What would he do to me if he found me, anyway?” Draco asked sullenly, still averse to the idea of hiding – perhaps because it made him seem cowardly. “Kill me?”  
  
         A tense silence followed his question, soon broken up by Harry’s nervous laughter and Aiya’s stilted reply, “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
         “Killing you would be too easy,” Severus cut in darkly, chuckling softly when the two Mori siblings simultaneously turned and glared at him. Bed-ridden as he was at the moment, he couldn’t very well leave the room during such a tedious discussion as he found this one to be, so he was determined to entertain himself in the meantime.  
  
         “I would just feel better if I knew you were somewhere out of his reach,” Aiya said to Draco beseechingly, her eyes turning a striking shade of amethyst, her voice hushed and imploring.  
  
         “And I’d feel better knowing someone was in here with Severus while I’m being force-fed lunch,” Harry added.  
  
         “I’m not an infant,” Severus muttered sulkily. He was only half-awake now, tenuously hanging on to the current conversation, and Harry could feel the slow and involuntary withdrawal of Severus's presence in his mind as Severus began to fall asleep.  
  
         [I'll be back by the time you wake up,] Harry pressed into his mind, wanting nothing more than to just curl up next to Severus and join him for a long nap, but he didn’t want to risk Hermione’s wrath by not showing up for lunch.  
  
         “Speaking of infants,” Draco tried to change the subject with a meaningful glance at Harry’s stomach.  
  
         "No, I don’t think we will speak of it,” Harry said defensively, drawing the line at discussing his delicate condition with his former rival. He glanced at Aiya, glimpsing the self-reproach in her eyes that she would not share through their bond, and he shook his head. [Don’t even think about blaming yourself. Rauko is the culprit, and we both know it.]  
  
         Her lips curved in a slow smile, and she acknowledged his words with a nod and a glimmer of malicious amusement in her eyes. [If I were you, I’d make him suffer a little before you forgive him. Better yet, just ignore him for a while. He hates that.]  
  
         They grinned deviously at each other, leaving Draco to stare at them in puzzlement.  
  
         “Ummm … yes, on second thought, I will stay in here,” he said, though not without brushing his lips over Aiya’s cheek in a chaste farewell. “Just don’t be away for too long.”  
  
         “I think I’m going to be sick,” Harry mumbled, though not low enough to escape being overheard as Aiya pinched him in retaliation. “Ouch!”  
  
         “Serves you right,” she said with the sort of grin that only siblings can share.  
  
         “No sense of humor at all,” Harry grumbled good-naturedly, but now that it was time to leave the room, he found his feet uncooperative and his heart began to race.  
  
         [Nothing is going to happen to Severus while you’re gone,] Aiya whispered into his mind, and he immediately calmed down, not aware until now of just how much he relied on his sister’s comforting voice. Many other voices had done their best to console him in the past twenty-four hours, but aside from Severus’s black-velvet drawl, no other voice could soothe him as well as Aiya’s.  
  
         “If his condition changes, I want to be the first to know,” Harry told Draco in clipped tones, and aside from an annoyed roll of his eyes, Draco seemed to take Harry's order in stride.  
  
         “We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Aiya softened the goodbye with a gentle smile and a brief squeeze of Draco’s hand, though she still seemed shy and distant when it came to showing him affection, or perhaps it was Harry’s presence that caused her to be so restrained.   
  
         “Alright, alright … it’s not like we’re leaving the country,” Harry said with a huff, and tugging Aiya away from Draco he led her out of Severus’s room and off to lunch.

 


	36. Rising Tensions

 

         "You and Draco were actually civil to each other back there," Aiya commented quietly as the two of them walked down the stairs.   
  
         Harry shrugged. "We discovered we had something in common, that's all."   
  
         Aiya wrapped her fingers around Harry's wrist, forcing him to pause halfway down the staircase. He turned to face her, surprised to see unshed tears in the deep indigo of her eyes.   
  
         "He told me what you were planning - that you were trying to bring us back together."  
  
         Harry looked away, embarrassed by the undisguised adoration in his sister's gaze. "I just wanted you to get better."  
  
         "So protective of everyone you love," Aiya said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Harry's forehead, but there was a definite tone of self-reproach in her voice as she added, "but I never should have put you in that position. It isn't your job to take care of me, Harry. If anything, I should be taking care of you."  
  
         "You're my sister," he said, clasping her hand tightly in his own. "I'm always going to worry about you, just like you'll worry about me. So even if I have to put up with Draco every now and then … well, as long as I get to see you smile again, it'll be worth it."  
  
         Aiya made a sound between a laugh and a sob, embracing Harry as she whispered in his ear, "I don't deserve you." And then, before Harry could protest her words, she pulled away, gave him a good once-over, then started to walk back up the stairs, towing Harry along behind her. "I think we forgot something."  
  
         "What do you mean?"  
  
         "Look down."  
  
         Harry glanced down at himself and blushed. " _Oh_."  
  
         "Exactly. I don't think pajamas are proper lunch attire."  
  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         After a brief return to Harry's room so he could change clothes, the two made their way down to lunch where most of the house's other occupants were already eating and talking. The curtains had been drawn over every window in the large dining room out of deference to the Mori guests, and the room was lit with several dripping candles that cast dancing shadows over the table and floor. Mrs. Weasley had taken over the kitchen and was now presiding over lunch, bringing out extra food and refilling drinks while keeping the general mood of the assembled guests as elevated as possible. There was no segregation between humans and Mori at the table today - Lisette and Hermione were talking together in low voices on the far right end of the table, a dusty tome propped up between them; Ron and the twins were chatting animatedly with Julian, who from time to time cast his gaze at a brooding Sirius sitting at the far left end of the table; and Mr. Weasley had engaged both Rauko and Remus in a debate on the progress of civil rights among magical beasts and beings in the wizarding world - in the end, they all agreed that the Ministry had a long way to go.  
  
         As Harry and Aiya were walking into the room, Mrs. Weasley was trying to persuade Dorian to eat. He was seated next to Julian with one small fist grasping the hem of Julian's shirt like a security blanket, firmly resisting any effort to coax his mouth open for a bite of cottage pie, even when Julian joined in on the challenging task and tried tempting Dorian with a hot sweet-roll slathered with butter.  
  
         Mrs. Weasley abandoned her efforts upon seeing Harry and Aiya, leaving Dorian in Julian's care as she used her wand to whisk two new place settings onto the table for the latecomers. "About time you two came downstairs! I had nearly given up hope."  
  
         "Me, miss one of your meals? Never." Harry grinned and kissed her cheek, then claimed the seat next to Dorian that she'd vacated. Dorian relinquished his hold on Julian's shirt and grabbed a fistful of Harry's red jumper with his other hand.  
  
         "How easily I'm replaced," Julian said with mock disappointment. "Tossed over for a younger chap. Story of my life."  
  
         "Quit complaining, old man, and pass me one of those rolls," Aiya quipped, sitting down at the mostly unoccupied far left end of the table where Sirius had been sitting alone, his scowling expression and tense silence the only flaw in an otherwise cozy gathering.   
  
         Sirius finally looked up from where he'd been glaring at his plate, surprised into speech by Aiya's taunt. "Old? What are you talking about? He hardly looks older than Harry."  
  
         Aiya snorted. "Don't let the baby face fool you. He's closer to Dumbledore's age than Harry's."   
  
         " _Baby face_?" Julian managed to sound deeply offended while obviously struggling not to laugh.  
  
         The barest lift at the corners of Sirius's mouth hinted that the lighthearted banter had worked its way past his black mood, but as soon as Julian captured him with that laughing golden gaze all indications of his burgeoning smile vanished and Sirius looked away.  
  
         Lisette pointed something out to Hermione in the book they were studying together, then she looked up at Harry with a smile. "Was Severus awake when you left him?"   
  
         "No, he fell back asleep," Harry answered while overseeing Dorian's attempts at corralling some wayward peas onto his spoon. It had taken only an encouraging smile from Harry to get him to start eating his lunch, an impressive feat that was not overlooked by those present who had failed to get Dorian to even so much as look at his food before Harry came down to the dining room. "I think he's still in a lot of pain, though. He might need another potion soon."  
  
         Rauko, having spotted the perfect opportunity to pitch his own solution to Severus's troubles, fixed his violet stare on Harry, his baritone voice smooth and persuasive. "Were Severus to be turned, his recovery would be far swifter."  
  
         Lisette frowned disapprovingly at her husband, but Rauko pressed forward quickly, eager to state his case before his wife grew more vocal in her protests.   
  
         "This wizard Voldemort tried to kill him last night, yes? Then what reason is there for him to spy anymore? Let him become one of us - if not for his own sake, then for that of his unborn child."  
  
         Harry acted as if he hadn't heard a word Rauko said, chuckling softly as he watched Dorian scowl at the uncooperative peas still rolling around on his plate.  
  
         Rauko's eyes narrowed. [Harry?]  
  
         Again, Harry merely smiled benignly down at the child by his side, ignoring the growing shadow of Rauko's presence in his mind.  
  
         Remus raised a brow at Harry's silence, venturing into the conversation warily. "We don't know for sure who attacked Severus. It might have been a Death Eater acting on his own."  
  
         Hermione tore her gaze away from Lisette's book, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. "But why? If someone had figured out he was a spy for the Order, wouldn't it make more sense to go straight to Voldemort?   
  
         "I don't think the attacker believes Severus is in league with the _Order_ ," Lisette said softly. "I think this person suspects him of being in league with the _Mori_." She went on to explain the source of Severus's wounds and her theories behind why someone might cast a less-than-lethal Killing Curse on him. She did not, much to Harry's relief, describe the additional factors that had protected Severus from the full effects of the curse. He could just imagine Sirius's reaction to hearing that Severus made a habit of biting Harry during sex.  
  
         [You could have lost him, Harry. Haven't I already told you that not turning Severus could mean losing him?] Rauko had taken his argument straight to Harry's mind, no longer letting the rest of the group hear what he had to say on the matter. [Your blood won't always protect him.]  
  
         Harry gritted his teeth, fighting down the urge to snap back at the intrusive voice in his head. Julian glanced at him over Dorian's head, a questioning look in his honey-brown eyes, but Harry forced a smile and dismissed Julian's concerns with a shake of his head. He took a deep breath then raised the barriers in his mind to shove Rauko out, a difficult task to say the least - he compared it to what it must feel like trying to shut a door that was being buffeted by hurricane-force winds.   
  
         "Perhaps the danger for Severus has increased," Arthur admitted, "but so has our need for information. Can we afford to be deaf and blind to You-Know-Who's movements?"  
  
         "We were deaf and blind last night," Sirius pointed out brusquely. "Snape had no idea that the Death Eaters were going to attack that house, so what use is he as a spy?"  
  
         Harry stared at his godfather in shock, an expression that was mirrored on the faces of all the adults at the table - except for Julian, who watched Sirius with a lazy grin. Hidden beneath the insult against Severus's prowess as a spy was Sirius's grudging support for the argument that Severus should finally retire from his life as a double agent. Was this the same Sirius who had been shouting death threats outside the sickroom the night before?   
  
         _And here I thought he'd be the first to throw Severus right back into the lions' den,_ Harry thought. _What changed_?  
  
         "What Sirius says makes sense," Hermione broke the stunned silence, "but it all depends on Professor Snape, doesn't it? We can't make him keep spying, any more than we can force him to stop."  
  
         Several heads nodded in agreement and the topic was dropped in favor of returning to their former discussions -- Hermione taking notes between bites of lunch as Lisette explained the finer points of Mori physiology; Fred and George pitching their latest idea for the joke shop to Julian and Ron; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley informing a mildly amused Remus of all the frantic plans being made for Bill and Fleur's wedding in the spring; Aiya engaging Sirius in a discussion of his days on the run -- but there were two at the table who could not let go of their thoughts of Severus and the dilemma of whether he should continue to risk his life to spy.  
  
         Hermione's words had affected Harry in ways she could never have imagined. Her comment on the futility of discussing the matter when it was Severus himself who would make the final decision had shaken Harry. He knew better than anyone how impossible it was to sway Severus away from his 'duty,' but he'd been so happy to have the man safe and alive that he hadn't considered how desperately terrified he would become at the thought of Severus returning to Voldemort the next time he was called. Was there anything he could do or say that would convince Severus not to go? Twice already he had asked him to stop spying, and twice Severus had abruptly rejected the notion.   
  
         [He has tasted death, Harry. You can imagine the fear he felt when he thought he would never see you again. It would be so easy to persuade him now … and the _child_ , Harry. A child changes everything.] Rauko's words, so terrible yet so seductive, rolled into Harry's mind in one fierce rush, toppling his defenses as easily as a tidal wave crashing into a sandcastle. [There is another who could replace him. You know this as well as I do. And the young one is willing, yes? He came to you, offering you the chance to free Severus from his duty, and you couldn't bring yourself to accept, could you? But _now_ … now that you have nearly lost Severus, now that you have experienced that crippling fear of loss for yourself, would your answer be any different should he ask again?]  
  
         Harry fought valiantly against the hypnotic cadence of Rauko's voice thrumming in his brain. It disturbed him to realize that Rauko had effectively gleaned the deal with Draco from Harry's mind without him being aware of it. What other information had he extracted without Harry being any the wiser?   
  
         [Get out of my head,] was his only reply, though his heart ached to give in to Rauko's silver-tongued promises of a Severus free of duty, free of Dumbledore's machinations …   
  
         [Help me convince him, Harry,] Rauko persisted. [Severus could be one of us by nightfall. Julian would gladly give of his blood for the ceremony.]  
  
         Harry glanced sharply at Julian, expecting to see those golden eyes bearing down on Harry as intently as Rauko's violet gaze was currently watching him, but Julian was staring past him at Aiya and Sirius, a carefree smile on his face. Harry didn't think Julian had any clue that Rauko had roped him into this scheme to turn Severus, though he also believed Julian would be more than willing to do what he could to help, even adopting Severus into the Shadowclaw bloodline. _But why can't it be my blood?_ Harry wondered, and he stood up, pushing back his chair so suddenly that all conversation stopped and he once again became the main focus of everyone's gaze.  
  
         [Harry?] Aiya's worried voice was only a faint echo in his mind, overpowered by Rauko's continued presence in Harry's thoughts.  
  
         "I need to study." He wrapped a couple of rolls in a napkin and glanced meaningfully at Ron and Hermione, both of them taking the hint as they popped up from their chairs in rapid succession.   
  
         "We'll help," Ron said, taking one last swig of pumpkin juice.  
  
         Lisette watched the trio with a knowing smile, stopping Hermione only long enough to hand her the dusty tome they'd been pouring over throughout the meal. "Don't forget this, dear. I think it will be very helpful."  
  
         "Thank you!" Hermione said almost breathlessly, cradling the book against her chest as if it was a priceless treasure.  
  
         "Want to come with us, Dorian?" Harry asked the wide-eyed boy still grasping tightly to the hem of his jumper, grinning when Dorian nodded and clambered down from his chair, making an odd gesture of thanks to Mrs. Weasley by placing both hands over his heart and giving a tiny bow, then grabbing Harry's hand and gazing up at him with those ocean-blue eyes, ready to go wherever Harry decided to lead him.  
  
         "You cannot continue to ignore the issue, Harry. Do you want your child to become an orphan like Dorian?" Rauko fired off his parting shot as he watched Harry and Dorian walk away, trying to provoke Harry into giving him a clear answer by asking the question out loud for everyone to hear.  
  
         Mossy green eyes turned to brilliant jade as Harry's temper skyrocketed past its limit, a tremor of dark energy shooting through him, and suddenly the glass in Rauko's hand shattered in a burst of fine crystal and red wine, splattering the front of his white shirt and the cuff of his sleeve with splotches of deep crimson. Rauko's eyes darkened to a rich plum color, astonishment etched into his elegant features.  
  
         "Ahh, m'love, you should be more careful," Lisette crooned to her husband as she tended to the spilled wine and fragments of crystal with a whisk of her wand, unable to hide the mirth dancing in her blue eyes when she glanced at Harry.  
  
         [Go on, lad. I'll take care of this trouble-maker,] she pressed softly into Harry's mind.  
  
         Aiya resumed her conversation with Sirius, but not without telling Harry just how amusing she found his involuntary response to Rauko's meddling. [That was perfect, Harry. I don't think I've ever seen him so stunned.]  
  
         [Priceless,] Julian added, all three of the other Mori still seated at the table collapsing into chuckles and fits of laughter when the petulant voice of Rauko resounded in all their minds …  
  
         [I see nothing humorous in this.] His voice was cold and imperious, but Harry could detect the beginnings of a pout on the 'demon' Mori's face, and the incongruity of fierce, intimidating Rauko wearing such a childish expression brought a smile to Harry's lips and banished his anger.   
  
         "I'll see everyone at the meeting tonight," Harry said as a means of farewell, then he led Dorian out of the room with Ron and Hermione following close behind.  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         "Marriage within bloodlines is rare among the Mori and often frowned upon," Harry read aloud directly from Hermione's notes as he and his friends sat in a circle on the floor of his bedroom. Dorian sat in Harry's lap, contently drawing on spare scraps of parchment that Hermione had provided for him. "Should a Mori choose to take a human mate, the chosen man or woman must be turned by a bloodline other than the bloodline of their intended mate. This ensures a wider gene pool and a lessened risk of birth defects and miscarriages."  
  
         Hermione took one look at Ron's blank face and rolled her eyes. "In the simplest of terms, it means you can't marry immediate family members. If Harry turned Professor Snape, then they'd be like brothers. Even if Aiya turned him, he'd still be considered a brother to Harry because they'd be from the same bloodline."  
  
         "Hmm, _definitely_ don't think of him as a brother," Harry said good-naturedly, longing to be back at Severus's side instead of filling his mind with endless facts about the Mori, but he hadn't been pretending downstairs when he'd said he needed to study. He had neglected Hermione's notes for far too long. "So did Rauko suggest Julian for a specific reason, or just out of convenience?"  
  
         "I don't know, Harry. Julian seems pretty powerful." Hermione drew her knees up against her chest, her brown eyes thoughtful. "And didn't you say Professor Snape's familiar is a panther? Becoming a Shadowclaw does seem to fit. Lisette told me she was adopted as a Duskwise - they're mostly healers and scholars - so I think whatever bloodline you're adopted into is an important choice and really reflects who you already are as a person."  
  
         _Then what is there in me that makes me a perfect fit for the Evernight bloodline_? Harry asked himself, pausing for a moment of self-reflection before dismissing the question in favor of pushing forward with examining Hermione's notes.  
  
         Nearer to the end of the thick binder, Harry found the section that pertained to reproduction and breeding, though it wasn't as detailed as the rest of the notes. In fact, there were only three pages of meager descriptions of Mori breeding cycles, and only two short paragraphs on the fact that male Mori had evolved in the last four centuries to the point where they could carry a child almost to full term, though male pregnancy was considered uncommon and carried its own unique set of risks.  
  
         "Pregnant males are more susceptible to sun-sickness," Harry muttered as he read through possible negative reactions experienced by morions during the development of the fetus. "That explains a lot. It didn't have anything to do with the _Dragon's Tears_ \- it was just a normal reaction to being pregnant."  
  
         Hermione nodded. "And there are probably other symptoms that Culpepper didn't know about. He didn't have as much information on that aspect of Mori life. From what I can tell, and from what Lisette has mentioned, pregnant Mori are closely guarded and protected, a throw-back to the days when the Mori were being hunted. A wizard would never have been allowed close enough to study or observe the birthing process, so all he had to go on was hearsay and a few rare eyewitness accounts."  
  
         "So … how is it going to … err, _come out_?" Ron's nose scrunched up as he asked the question.  
  
         Harry groaned, drawing a worried look from Dorian that he quickly soothed away with a mental hug and an unspoken encouragement for him to keep drawing. "Can we not talk about that right now?"  
  
         Hermione hesitated, an answer to Ron's question on the tip of her tongue, but she chose to honor Harry's wish and didn't explain the nuances of male childbirth and the many ways that such a scenario could play out. Instead, she announced giddily, "Lisette says she's going to apprentice me in all things Mori so that I can help Harry out when we're back at school. She says Dumbledore approved our correspondence as long as it doesn't interfere with my schoolwork."   
  
         Ron snorted. "Writing to Culpepper … writing to Lisette … who else is on your list of pen pals?"  
  
         "I still write to Viktor from time to time," Hermione said archly, hiding a smile when Ron sat up straight and glared at her.  
  
         "What are you still writing to _him_ for?"  
  
         Harry tuned out the couple's subsequent squabble as he continued to glean through all the information Hermione had collected from Culpepper, surprised at how concise the wizard could be on certain areas while frustratingly vague on others. There was more information on the Evernight, Warsong, and Shadowclaw bloodlines than any of the others, and the males were more talked about than the females. Culpepper didn't seem to know the various ways a Mori could interpret the messages of the Spirits - no mention of tarot cards or prophetic dreams - but he did have extensive knowledge of the baser instincts a Mori possessed - the importance of scent and the near-inescapable urge to mate during breeding cycles. It was almost as if Culpepper wrote from first-hand, albeit limited, observation of the elusive race, rather than gathering ancient accounts from multiple sources.  
  
         Harry waited for a pause in the lovers' spat before asking Hermione, "Did Culpepper ever say if he'd met a Mori?"   
  
         " _Met_ one?" Hermione relaxed her grip on the textbook she'd been planning to toss at her boyfriend in retaliation for a rather vulgar comment about what Ron suspected Viktor Krum wanted to give her in exchange for all those long letters she'd been sending him. "No, I don't think so. He attributes a lot of his findings to extensive research - and the Mori were thought to be extinct by the time he was born, anyway, so I doubt they risked exposure just to give a wizard researcher a glimpse of their culture in the hopes he'd show them in a kinder light than other so-called 'authorities' on the Mori."  
  
         Harry flipped through the notes as he tried to understand why the idea of Culpepper having personal knowledge of the Mori resonated so strongly in his head. "Yes, but in his book he says he believes the Mori are hiding in the Muggle world. Why would he believe that? What would put that thought into his head in the first place?"  
  
         "Why so worried about this, mate?" Ron looked puzzled by Harry's sudden interest in Culpepper.  
  
         "It just seems like … maybe he knows too much."  
  
         "I suppose a wizard who had studied the Mori up close would be an invaluable source of information, but … Oh, Harry! You don't think Culpepper could be in danger from Voldemort, do you?" Hermione asked, horrified.  
  
         "No, I'm sure he's not," Harry assured her - but some deep-down instinct told him that there was more to Nathaniel Culpepper than simply being a wizened researcher and Mori sympathizer, and if Harry had reached certain conclusions about the man then certainly someone as intent on discovering the hiding places of the Mori as Voldemort or Lucius were would surely have similar suspicions. Harry's rejection of her suggestion did little to assuage Hermione's stricken expression, and the next thing he knew she was pulling out parchment and a quill, using the textbook-turned-possible-weapon as a writing table now as she started to compose a letter.  
  
         "It could be nothing, Hermione," Harry tried to ease her fears, wracking his brain for some comforting words but finding very little to say. "Really, if anyone was after him, wouldn't he have disappeared already?"  
  
         "Well, maybe they didn't think they needed an expert until now." Ron's innocent comment earned him a glare from Harry and a gasp of agreement from Hermione. He hurried to explain himself to an irritated Harry, "It's just, they got thrown for a loop last night, didn't they? So doesn't it make sense that they'd want every bit of information they could find on the Mori to make sure the same thing doesn't happen the next time they go kidnapping one?"  
  
         Harry sighed and didn't try to talk Hermione out of writing her letter. If anything, it would give him some peace of mind to know that Culpepper had been warned in advance should Death Eaters come knocking at his door. It was something he wished he could have done for Callie and Andrew. He gently brushed the unruly curls from Dorian's forehead, remarking absently, "He's in desperate need of a trim," before he looked down at Dorian's drawing.  
  
         "Who's in your picture, Dorian?" he asked curiously, noting that several misshapen stick figures were crowded onto the small piece of parchment that Dorian had been drawing on.  
  
         Dorian paused in the middle of coloring the grass, using the green crayon to point out the various people he'd chosen to draw.   
  
         "Daddy and Melony," he said as he pointed to a tall man holding a little girl, "and Harry and Sev'rus," pointing to a couple of stick figures standing next to the one that represented Andrew, "and the baby," he tapped the crayon against a circle drawn over the belly of the Harry figure, "and me," he indicated the little boy figure that was holding the hand of ' _Sev'rus_.'   
  
         _He hasn't even met Severus yet, so why did he draw him_? Harry didn't dwell on it, already accustomed to the uncanny knowledge that all Mori had from time to time of things they couldn't possibly know, usually thanks to the Spirits. He noticed that Dorian had not drawn Callie in the picture and he was unsure if he should ask him why he had chosen to omit her, but Dorian gave him the answer unasked.  
  
         "And this is Mummy," he said, making a small dot on the chest of the figure that represented himself. "Daddy says that's where she lives now."  
  
         Harry forced a smile, bending to press a kiss to the top of Dorian's head, his voice strong and soothing even though inside his heart was breaking. "He's right, you know. She'll always be with you."  
  
         [And Daddy and Melly and Harry and Sev'rus and baby,] Dorian rattled off the extended list of family members as if he were calling roll in a classroom, swiveling his little body around so he could look up at Harry expectantly, waiting for confirmation that the family portrait he'd just drawn wasn't only a figment of his imagination but something real, something tangible for him to grasp onto at a time when his entire world had vanished in a smoky haze, leaving only the ghostly whispers in his mind and a few old photographs for him to remember it by.  
  
         [Yes, all of us, together. Always.] Harry reassured the child, his smile warm and sincere. He didn't know how he'd manage it, and it meant informing Severus of a second addition to their rapidly growing family, but he was determined to keep Dorian with him, to raise him and protect him now that Andrew and Callie could not.   
  
         He wasn't sure what brought on these paternal instincts - side effects of his pregnancy? perhaps a result of the strong bond he had formed with Dorian back at the house on Willowbrooke Lane? - but Harry was willing to fight for guardianship of the Mori child. Besides, Harry was a war orphan himself. Who better to understand the effects such a terrible loss would have on the rest of Dorian's life? Who better to help Dorian cope with his tragic past as the years went by?  
  
         "And don't forget 'Uncle' Ron and 'Auntie' Hermione," Harry added teasingly aloud, quickly finding himself the recipient of a pair of confused looks from his best friends.  
  
         "Uncle Ron and Auntie 'Miney," Dorian repeated, completely butchering Hermione's name, but in that adorable lisp of childhood that was so endearing that Hermione didn't have the heart to correct him.   
  
         "Alright, so we'll have to work on that one," Harry said with a grin, and the three friends shared a laugh, each of them grateful for the lighthearted moment.

         After all, it was never certain how long such moments would last …  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         Sirius glared at the door to the sickroom, his wand clenched in one fist while his other hand was poised just above the doorknob, his fingers trembling with repressed anger. This was the third time he'd been tempted to barge into the sickroom to exact some vengeance, but the thought of Harry two doors down prevented him from surrendering to his murderous whims. He had nearly choked on his own words during lunch, sticking up for Snape when what he really wanted to do was ship the bastard back to Voldemort as soon as he could stand on his own again. His hope was that if Severus gave up spying, he'd be forced to go into hiding somewhere far from Harry - and time and distance, Sirius reasoned, would effectively divide the two without Sirius having to dirty his own hands.

         But Julian, his eyes gleaming gold and his lips curving into a taunting grin, had seen right through Sirius. _I know exactly what you're doing_ , his amused expression had seemed to say. _You can't fool me._  
  
         And Sirius, finding himself on the receiving end of a sequence of penetrating stares and sultry smiles, had found himself a little breathless by the time Aiya had started interrogating him about his days as a fugitive running from one desolate corner of the world to the next, keeping two steps ahead of the Aurors hunting him down. Not long after Harry had left the dining room, Sirius had excused himself as well and escaped into the solitude of his own bedroom, wrestling with his body's instant and alarming reactions to Julian's presence and the way his words from the night before had affected Sirius more than any of the pleas and admonitions of everyone else who'd tried to calm him down, including Remus. The questions and confusion that Julian brought into Sirius's life were entirely unwanted.  
  
         _He'll be gone soon_ , Sirius told himself, still staring at the door to the sickroom even though his mind had wandered back to troubling thoughts of Julian. _He'll be gone, Snape will be gone, and things will go back to normal._  
  
         Voices from below startled him out of his reverie, the creak of footsteps on the staircase indicating that at least one person was about to catch him in the act of - well, he wasn't really doing anything, but it would seem suspicious nonetheless. Panicking ( _and since when do I panic_? he asked himself indignantly), he ducked into the room across the hall, only realizing the hugeness of his mistake when the thick, dizzying scent of recently burned herbs filled his senses and left no doubt in his mind about whose room he'd just barged into.   
  
         He slowly turned around, but no one was there - only that herbal aroma mixed with a spicier, fiery scent that clung to the rumbled bedcovers and the discarded suit jacket draped haphazardly over the back of the room's lone chair. The voices out in the hall grew louder, and soon he could make out words and phrases from a conversation between a man and a woman, his heartbeat quickening as the rich timbre of the male voice matched that of the last person Sirius wanted to see right now.  
  
         "You don't have to do this." This voice,  clearly feminine, had a gentle quality to it, and Sirius guessed it belonged to the soft-spoken Lisette. "There are alternatives."  
  
         "I told you, I don't mind. Aiya had her turn in the 'enemy camp,' as Rauko so unfairly describes it - why should she have all the fun?" There was a hint of steely resolve hidden beneath Julian's playful chatter. "Besides, I make a better shadow than her - she's never been fond of long hours hiding on the edge of the void."  
  
         "You are too clever to believe that shadowing Harry will be your only duty."  
  
         "If I am so lucky as to invite a new brother into my family, who am I to complain?"  
  
         The voices were right outside the door now, and Sirius struggled with the conflicting desires to stay and hear the rest of the conversation or apparate out of the room immediately and save himself the humiliation of being caught in Julian's room with no excuse as to what he was doing in there. He chose to listen on ... but with his wand at ready so he could apparate out of the room before Julian opened the door.  
  
         "Why so agreeable, Julian?" There was a note of scepticism in Lisette's voice, but her tone was still pleasant and friendly. "You have never been this compliant with Rauko's orders in the past."  
  
         Julian gave a low, throaty chuckle. "That's because his previous orders were always for his benefit, never mine. This time, however … I have an incentive to cooperate."  
  
         "Opening your heart after all these years?" The scepticism had melted away, replaced by almost motherly indulgence, though Sirius now knew that Julian was the elder of the two. "Callandra would approve."  
  
         "Yes," Julian's voice grew rough with the pain that was still raw and fresh for him. "I'm sure she would."  
  
         The doorknob started to turn and Sirius sprang into action, apparating from Julian's room to his own. He paced in front of the bed and tried to make sense of the snippets of conversation he'd overheard - _what did Julian mean by 'shadowing' Harry? And what was this 'new brother' nonsense?_  
  
         "I could tell you," a husky voice murmured in his ear, "if you ask me nicely enough."  
  
         Sirius tensed, amazed that Julian had managed to sneak up on him. In retaliation, and to nurse his bruised ego, he flicked his wand at the curtains over his windows and allowed bright sunshine to flood the room. Only when he heard Julian's muffled curse did he finally turn around, his gray eyes narrowing as he watched the long-limbed morion stumble back against the bed, his hands patting the side of the mattress blindly as he lowered himself into a seated position. When Julian raised his head, it was with eyes that stared straight ahead, looking without seeing, and Sirius belatedly remembered Julian's sun-blindness.   
  
         "What are you doing in my room?" he asked harshly, stamping down any feelings of guilt or regret.  
  
         "Weren't we playing musical bedrooms? You pop into my room, I pop into yours … when the music stops, the real fun begins?"  Even while suffering apparent discomfort in the glare of the light pouring in from the window, Julian's sense of humor remained intact.  
  
         "I wasn't in your - " Sirius started to protest, but Julian cut him off.  
  
         "I've dodged enough Aurors to know the crack of apparition when I hear it," he said, slowly pushing himself to his feet and walking towards Sirius, somehow able to 'see' him perfectly well through scent and sound despite his visual handicap. The cuffs were loose on the wrinkled white dress shirt he'd been wearing since the night before, the top two buttons undone and the shirt gaping just enough to give Sirius a glimpse of smooth, creamy skin. "Don't worry, I don't believe you had any real intention of paying me a private visit, as much as I'd enjoy one."  
  
         Sirius pretended not to hear the innuendo. "Good. That's all settled, then. Just a simple mistake. You can leave now." And he brushed past him just as Julian had closed the distance between them to mere inches.  
  
         "I'll leave … if you promise not to hover outside Severus's room like a Dementor waiting to give the Kiss."  
  
         Sirius growled at the comparison. How did this stranger know exactly what would push his buttons? "I can do what I please in my own house."  
  
         "And just how much pleasure do you get from this feud with Severus?"   
  
         Julian's golden eyes blazed in the sunlight, and Sirius drank his fill of the sight, going on to admire Julian's dark chestnut hair and striking handsome features while Julian was still blind to the attention. Whatever spell Julian had him under, Sirius wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affected.  
  
         Julian moved faster than Sirius could fully appreciate, grasping his wrist and tugging him forward until they were only inches apart again, bending to nuzzle his nose and lips against the side of Sirius's throat. Sirius, too dumbfounded to protest, stood frozen while Julian breathed deeply of his scent. His voice when he spoke was a seductive rumble, "I think that what you really need is a distraction. All those lonely days spent in this house with only a sullen house-elf for company … you crave some excitement, some danger …"   
  
         "No, that's not … not true," he weakly protested, caught between the warm sunshine against his back and the fiery morion pressing up against his chest.  
  
         "Deny it all you want. I don't mind chasing you." The golden gleam in Julian's eyes had brightened to a feral yellow, his unearthly beauty sharpened by the predatory expression stealing over his face.   
  
         Sirius, momentarily captivated by that animalistic allure, came to his senses when a loud rap on the door interrupted the intimate moment. He shoved Julian away and drew the curtains with another wave of his wand, enveloping the room in darkness once more. He snarled a furious, "Get out," at Julian before he walked towards the door.  
  
         When he opened it, he found Remus standing on the other side, and he beckoned his friend inside while gesturing to where he'd last seen Julian standing with that smug grin on his face. "He was just leaving."  
  
         Remus stared at him, puzzled. "Who was leaving?"  
  
         Sirius turned around and saw for himself that he and Remus were the only two people in the room.  
  
         "Never mind," he said wearily, raking a hand through his dark hair, but in his mind he was back to repeating his earlier mantra of ' _he'll be gone soon, he'll be gone soon_ ' …  
  
         … though, deep down, he was starting to doubt whether that was what he truly wanted.  


 


	37. The Death of Severus Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Please, no one panic at the title of this chapter. ^_^

 

         The meeting between the Mori and the Order of the Phoenix resumed early that evening, though there were fewer Order members attending this time as both Kingsley Shacklebolt and Daedalus Diggle reportedly had duties that kept them away. It seemed that the women on both sides had conspired together during the day to renovate the meeting space, removing the long imposing table in the center of the spacious room and filling it instead with plush armchairs and settees in one big circle. This one simple change considerably lightened the atmosphere, and the crackling fire in the hearth lent a cozy glow to what was otherwise a stark and austere environment.  
  
         The absence of two additional Order members left Harry with little choice in what to do with Dorian - Tonks was needed at the meeting and Harry refused to leave Dorian in one of the upstairs bedrooms unsupervised, so he found himself seated on the same cream-colored sofa as Julian and Aiya with Dorian curled up against him half-asleep in red footsie pajamas. Ron and Hermione were sitting in armchairs to the left of Harry. The rest of the attendees were scattered around the room without the rigid divisions of the night before; Mori and wizards were mixing quite nicely now that the initial tensions had been broken, though Sirius had chosen the seat farthest from Julian, and Dumbledore and Rauko had also bypassed the opportunity to sit in close proximity to each other, though for quite different reasons.  
  
         Dumbledore looked as if he'd aged a decade in one day, his eyes devoid of their usual twinkle, and the right sleeve of his periwinkle robes was stained with what appeared to be ink. He had been one of the first to enter the meeting, silent and somber, and had hardly said two words to anyone since then. Harry took it as a bad sign.  
  
         "Are we having this meeting or not?" Sirius asked once several chatter-filled minutes had gone by and the meeting still hadn't started.  
  
         Dumbledore finally roused himself from his brooding contemplations and rested his sharp blue gaze on Sirius. "We will wait for Severus to arrive."  
  
         Harry frowned. "He's coming downstairs? In his condition?"   
  
         "He will be fine, Harry," Lisette reassured him, well aware that keeping Harry calm was vital in this situation. A Mori worried over the health and safety of his mate, especially when the Mori was in such a delicate condition himself, could turn violently feral at the slightest hint of trouble or danger. "I wouldn't have allowed him to step one foot out of bed if I thought it would interfere with his recovery."  
  
         Harry relaxed, but only a little, his eyes a troubled shade of olive as his gaze drifted from Lisette to Sirius. He wasn't quite convinced that his godfather had abandoned all his threats of bodily harm towards Severus, but Sirius met Harry's eyes easily, even forcing a small smile and a nod. Harry smiled back, his spirits lifted, but then it all came crashing down again when Rauko tensed in his chair, his hands curling tightly around the ends of the armrests until the wood creaked in protest.  
  
         "That _boy_ ," he snarled, his eyes darkening to deep indigo, "is approaching as well. I can smell him."  
  
         " _Atar_ , be quiet," Aiya hissed, her cheeks pinkening with embarrassment at the near-feral expression overtaking her father's aristocratic features.  
  
         "Ahh, yes. I asked Draco to come as well." Dumbledore mentioned Draco's invitation to the meeting as if it was a careless afterthought, but Harry detected a hint of amusement in his voice that made him think that Draco's attendance was all part of Dumbledore's strategy to keep Rauko slightly off-balance. "There are new troubles arising that will directly affect him."  
  
         "He and his kind are the root of all this evil." Shadows were amassing themselves around Rauko's chair, clinging to his arms and chest and slithering through his long, dark hair, until that corner of the room grew so dark and oppressive that Sirius, who had been sitting next to him, deserted his seat in favor of one on the opposite side of the room, choosing an otherwise empty low-backed settee just to the right of Aiya.   
  
         Dorian stirred in alarm, reacting to the intensity of Rauko's aura, and soon he was clambering into Harry's lap, burrowing his face against the soft, hand-knit jumper that Harry wore. His thoughts were a confused jumble of half-formed questions and frightened whispers that Harry found difficult to translate, but the general feelings of panic and terror that flowed from Dorian's mind into Harry's were enough to rouse the his protective instincts, his eyes flaring a fierce jade.  
  
         Lisette immediately grasped how disastrous it would be to have two feral morions on her hands during a meeting that was supposed to foster a peaceful alliance between the Mori and the Order, and she turned to her husband with a stern glare, grasping his chin and forcing him to meet her gaze as she gently but firmly scolded him. "Do not blame the son for the crimes of the father. Draco is not Lucius. He deserves a chance to prove himself, one way or the other."  
  
         Rauko's eyes narrowed in annoyance, though he no longer appeared to be on the verge of releasing his inner demon. He continued to defend his anti-Draco position. "That boy is a menace and a clear threat to - "  
  
         "You're treading on very thin ice, m'love," Lisette warned him, frustration thickening her Scottish brogue - _yuir treadin' oon verra thin ice_ \- and this abrupt change in her accent seemed to strike a chord in Rauko. He lapsed into silence, reverting back to his usual aloof expression and exuding an air of indifference, as if suddenly Draco's presence was of little consequence to him.  
  
         [Impressive.] Harry pressed the word into Aiya's mind.  
  
         Her response was a relieved sigh, adding, [She's the only one who can really handle him. I hate to think what he might have done if she hadn't been here.]  
  
         "Yes, well, perhaps one of us should go see what's taking them so long?" Remus suggested, trying to move past the awkward silence that had settled over the room. He turned to Tonks, who was perched on the edge of the armchair next to him and who looked particularly uncomfortable with all the bad vibes clogging up the meeting room. "Perhaps someone neutral?"  
  
         "Right!" she said, jumping up from her seat only to trip forward clumsily, saved from a nasty spill when Remus's hand shot out to steady her.   
  
         "This is the witch you were going to send to help me along? I nearly died last night and I can still walk better than she can." That black-velvet drawl issuing from the open doorway instantly brought Harry out of his anxious musings. Severus leaned heavily on Draco for support, dressed in an old black robe that Sirius had grudgingly offered at Lisette's request. Severus's own slashed and bloody clothing had been discarded as a lost cause.  
  
         [Are you okay? Are you in pain? Is this going to be too much for you?] Harry bombarded him with questions, worried by the sickly pallor of Severus's face.  
  
         "Get me over to Potter before he bursts a blood vessel," Severus said to Draco, glancing at Harry with a mocking grin as he added silently, [You worry too much.]  
  
         [Don't expect me to stop anytime soon,] Harry fired back crossly, not aware that his sudden scowl had become a general source of amusement for the entire room - well, almost the entire room.  
  
         "There's no room for you to sit by Harry," Sirius pointed out.  
  
         Draco hesitated, having already helped Severus halfway to the sofa where Harry was sitting. He looked up at Severus questioningly, but Severus's dark gaze had focused on Sirius.  
  
         "Is that an invitation for me to sit by _you_ , Black? I didn't realize you enjoyed my company that much." Severus said all this in a calm, even tone, betraying no anger or mockery in his voice, completely in command of his emotions. It was this unshakable control that seemed to infuriate Sirius the most, but his biting retort was cut short as Julian rose to his feet with a grin.  
  
         "Severus can have my seat," he said, "and I'll sit by Sirius." There was no mistaking the laughter and delight dancing in the golden depths of his eyes as he claimed the coveted spot next to Sirius, explaining his amusement to a much-puzzled Harry, [I've been racking my brain trying to think up an excuse to sit by your godfather ever since he switched seats. Thank Severus for me when you get a chance.]  
  
         Harry was stunned - this was the first he'd heard of Julian having more than a friendly interest in Sirius. From the look on Sirius's face, it appeared that he hadn't quite made up his mind whether he wanted Julian to be sitting beside him or not. Harry shook his head in amazement and smiled, telling Julian, [Good luck,] before turning his full attention back to Severus as Draco helped settle him in next to Harry on the sofa.   
  
         It was only when he was seated in a comfortable position that Severus finally noticed the drowsy fledgling in Harry's lap. He stared at Dorian, then at Harry, then back at Dorian, until finally fixing his beetle-black gaze on his lover and asking with a deadpan expression, "Just exactly how long was I asleep?"  
  
         Harry chuckled, brushing a stray black curl from Dorian's dusky cheek and smiling when Dorian's lashes fluttered then lifted, revealing the deep blue of his eyes. "This is Dorian."  
  
         "Sev'rus," the child slurred sleepily, reaching out to latch one small fist onto the sleeve of Severus's robes.  
  
         Harry watched Severus's face closely, not sure how the professor was going to react to Dorian's instinctive need to attach himself to people he liked. Severus could never be described as a touchy-feely person (well, outside of the times he was touching and feeling Harry), so Harry felt a need to explain the psychology behind Dorian's actions. [Lisette says he's going to be very clingy for the first few months - it's just a reaction to losing his parents. He grabs ahold of you because he's afraid you're going to leave him.]  
  
         A shadow crossed Severus's expression, a fleeting glimpse of the raw pain that lay beneath the expressionless mask he usually wore.   
  
         [I know the feeling,] he murmured into Harry's mind, holding his gaze for several lingering seconds before a tug on his sleeve distracted him and he was looking down at Dorian again, this time with one of those rare, tender smiles that he had only ever shown to Harry before now.  
  
         Dorian stretched his arms out to Severus, giving the indication that he wanted to be held.   
  
         "My, my, Severus. I had no idea you have such a way with children," Aiya teased her old friend as Draco moved to the end of the sofa, his gray-blue eyes keeping a wary watch on Rauko as he perched himself on the armrest next to Aiya.  
  
         "He doesn't," Ron said bluntly, only to have Hermione elbow him in the ribs. He rubbed at his sore side, glaring at her. "Well, it's not like he'd get any votes for ' _Hogwarts' Most Pleasant Professor_ ,' now would he?"  
  
         "I'm your teacher, Weasley, not your wet-nurse. If you want your hand held, run back home to mummy," Severus said coldly, swallowing his reluctance in the face of Ron's remark as he lifted Dorian out of Harry's lap and into his own, careful not to jostle around too much and aggravate his wounds. Once he was holding the child, however, he seemed undecided about what to do next. Fortunately for him, Dorian simply curled up against his chest and closed his eyes, lulled towards slumber by the constant rhythm of Severus's heartbeat.  
  
         "I think you would be surprised, Mr. Weasley, at how much Professor Snape will be missed at Hogwarts," Dumbledore interjected, bringing the banter to a halt.  
  
         "Missed?" Remus raised a brow, not bothering to hide his surprise at Dumbledore's choice of words. "Does this mean you've decided to send him into hiding?"  
  
         "There is no need," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes tiredly and pinching the bridge of his nose, as if warding off a headache. "By all official accounts, Severus Snape is dead."  
  
         Fred and George each gave a shout of laughter, but their spontaneous outburst of amusement faded into an uneasy silence when it became apparent that Dumbledore wasn't joking.  
  
         "I should have known my miraculous recovery was too good to be true," Severus said dryly, and his wry comment spurred everyone else into action, questions and exclamations of disbelief pouring in from every side of the room until Dumbledore called them back to order.  
  
         "I had some visitors at Hogwarts early this morning," Dumbledore began, his blue gaze falling briefly on Draco as he added, "Lucius Malfoy and two Aurors rumored to be pawns of Voldemort arrived with a warrant of arrest signed by the Minister of Magic, giving them permission to search the school. Apparently, I was harboring a criminal among my teachers."  
  
         Sirius interrupted with a puzzled frown. "Wait a minute, I thought Snape was the one who was dead. How could you be harboring him at the same time?"  
  
         "They were not there for Severus. They were there for his killer - Miss Graham."  
  
         "Me?!" Aiya gasped out, clearly in shock. Draco was just as unnerved, but he reached down and threaded his fingers through hers, squeezing her hand in a show of support that did not go unnoticed by the narrowed violet gaze of Aiya's father.  
  
         "An eyewitness, whose identity they would not reveal, claims that Miss Graham attacked Severus during an altercation just outside of Hogsmeade, murdering him and disposing of the body with a clever incendiary charm. According to this witness, our Aiya is a Death Eater, and she had been returning from the attack in Muggle London when Severus discovered her and threatened to turn her over to the proper wizarding authorities. It is a preposterous story, of course - none of them could explain what Severus would be doing tramping about the countryside on Halloween night - but it seems the Ministry is convinced of her guilt. They even suspect she is to blame for the recent vandalism of the Shrieking Shack. Their eyewitness is said to have described Miss Graham in perfect detail, right down to the wood of her wand."  
  
         "Details that Lucius would know firsthand," Lisette said. "It's a clever plan, framing Aiya for murder. She would be taken into custody to be held for trial, and from there it would be easy for the Ministry to 'misplace' her. The only question is … does Lucius truly think Severus is dead?"  
  
         "He would have every reason to believe it," Severus answered stonily. "He saw the severity of my wounds with his own eyes."  
  
         He went on to describe the events of the night before as he remembered them, acknowledging beforehand that pain potions and the aftereffects of his fever had rendered some of his memories unreliable. The summons from Voldemort had resulted in a painful but blessedly brief interrogation from the Dark Lord himself, not concerning the Mori, as Severus had feared, but concerning Harry. _Was Potter altered in any way this year? What information had he managed to wrangle out of Dumbledore about the boy's training? Were there any new faces at the school?_ He had dutifully mentioned the new DADA professor, making sure to emphasize Aiya's lineage as the daughter of a Muggleborn and exceedingly careful to call her only 'Professor Graham.' Lucius had not been present at the questioning, much to Severus's surprise, and Voldemort had seemed preoccupied, even worried, as if there was much more troubling him than the mystery of Harry Potter. Severus's interrogation had ended with Voldemort demanding a potion from him that would prevent a repeat of Callie Lennox's noble sacrifice, then he was sent on his way, foolishly imagining that he'd walked through fire unscathed yet again, save for that single _Crucio_ that had become Voldemort's greeting of choice to many of his Death Eaters.  
  
         "I let down my guard, only for an instant, but it was long enough for Lucius to ambush me. He disarmed me, then proceeded to demand that I tell him everything I knew of Aiya and what really happened to her all those years ago. He said he knew she was still alive, and he accused me of forming a secret alliance with the Mori and plotting to overthrow the Dark Lord." Severus smiled bitterly. "The former I could understand, but I couldn't understand why he suspected me of mutiny until I realized that he was projecting his own ambitions onto me."  
  
         "Malfoy is turning against You-Know-Who?" Arthur asked, dumbfounded.  
  
         Draco didn't look convinced. "He's worked so hard to move up in the ranks. Why would he risk it?"  
  
         "Why be the servant when you can be the master?" Rauko's eyes gleamed as he leaned forward in his chair. "Some humans cannot live with just a taste of power - they must drink deeply, endlessly attempting to quench their thirst. Your father has grown greedy. He wants to rule, not serve." There was a certain note of contempt in Rauko's voice, a sharpening of his tone that conveyed his belief in the old adage that the fruit never fell far from the tree - for him, Draco and Lucius were interchangeable.  
  
         "He wasn't always like this," Draco insisted.  
  
         Harry, who had been flabbergasted from the moment Dumbledore pronounced Severus 'dead,' now turned to look at Draco with sympathy in his eyes. He hated Lucius, but he could try and understand Draco's dilemma. He couldn't imagine how hard it must be for Draco to reconcile his memories of the man who would tuck him in at night with what Lucius had become. Though … Lucius had done some atrocious things even before Draco was born, as Rauko was quick to remind everyone.  
  
         "Your father tortured my daughter when she was only thirteen years old," Rauko snarled. "He imprisoned her with light, stripped her of her clothing, and carved runes into her skin with a spell so hideous that we Mori call it _coi'e'gurtha_ \- 'living death,' in your language. Yet you say he has not always been a monster?"  
  
         Draco looked at Aiya, his eyes narrowing to slits of icy blue. "What is he talking about?"  
  
         Aiya pulled her hand free of Draco's, avoiding his searching gaze as she hugged her arms against her thin, frail body. To Rauko, she whispered, "That's enough. Don't say any more."  
  
         "Aiya?" There was a tremor in Draco's right hand that he quickly hid by clenching his fingers into a fist.  
  
         Rauko was only too eager to press forward, ignoring his daughter's pleas for silence as he fell into a softer tone of voice, disturbingly charming as he conversed with Draco openly about the shared past between Aiya and Lucius. "Hasn't she shown them to you? The runes that mark her still … your father's brand on her skin … I wonder why she did not tell you? Perhaps she feared you would take up where your father left off - "  
  
         Lisette whisked out her wand and tapped it against her husband's lips, sealing them together and effectively cutting off whatever additional remark had been about to roll off his tongue, but the damage had been done. Draco abandoned his perch next to Aiya and walked out of the room, pale and stricken. Shooting her father a fierce glare, Aiya then jumped up and ran after Draco, calling out to him several times but receiving no reply.  
  
         "That was too cruel, even for you," Harry said to the muted Mori leader, reaching over to rub soothing circles on Dorian's back. He had been drifting slowly to sleep while Severus held him, but the rise of tensions in the room had threatened to wake him yet again.  
  
         "Not to mention the fact that Draco is right," Severus said, expertly drawing the conversation back to the business at hand and leaving Rauko in the care of the capable (and now thoroughly pissed-off) Lisette. "Lucius has changed in the past year or so - I won't defend his actions against Aiya back then, but had he been as ruthless and cunning as he is now, he would have stayed and subdued me when I stumbled in on his ritual, then finished the spell. Back then, he feared being caught. These days, he acts as if he is untouchable."  
  
         "I, too, sense something different in Lucius," Dumbledore agreed. "He did not request to see Draco or even inquire about him at all while at the school, when his son has always been a top concern in the past. It was his one redeeming quality, his affection for his son. This latest show of indifference to Draco is quite worrying."  
  
         "Why did he try and kill you, though?" Tonks asked Severus.  
  
         "He didn't. There was a man with him - young, tall, with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes - and I remember thinking I'd seen him someplace before, but he wasn't a Death Eater as far as I knew. It was that man who attacked me. He said it was 'the only way to be sure' … or something along those lines. My memories of that time are murky. I remember hearing him cast - " he glanced at Harry, choosing his words and descriptions carefully so as not to upset him further " -  a curse, and I felt it strike my chest, but from then on all I can recall is the pain. I have no idea how I ended up here - apparated on instinct, I suppose - though I do remember hearing Harry call my name and Lupin mentioning a child, then nothing more until I woke up this afternoon with Harry asleep in the chair next to my bed."  
  
         "I suspected this after examining you last night," Lisette said, ignoring her husband's imploring gaze as she immersed herself in the mystery of Severus's attacker. "That man must have believed you were a Mori yourself. He cursed you to see if you were immune … though he must be very sadistic, sociopathic at best, to have used the Killing Curse to test your humanity."  
  
         Severus glanced sharply at Harry, visibly alarmed that Lisette had so accurately guessed which curse he'd endured and that Harry now knew how truly close Severus had come to dying, but Harry dismissed his concerns with a wan smile.  
  
         [I already know. Lisette told me while you were unconscious. She could smell it on you.]  
  
         Mad-Eye interrupted whatever silent reassurances Severus had been about to make to Harry with his sudden question of, "Do you think you would recognize this man if you saw him again?"   
  
         "Perhaps … " Severus didn't sound like his usual confident self.  
  
         "Do you remember anything else about him? Any distinguishing characteristics?"  
  
         "Besides being a heartless bastard?" Severus snapped, his eyes blazing, but then he expelled the sudden aggression in a weary sigh and shook his head. "No … other than that odd familiarity, there was nothing unusual about him. His normalcy was the most disturbing thing about him. He gave a funny smile right before he cursed me, as if he couldn't decide which he'd enjoy more: seeing the spell fail … or seeing it succeed."  
  
         Harry shivered. "Sounds like another Voldemort."  
  
         "Let us hope not," Dumbledore said, but he, too, looked disturbed by Severus's account of the attack and the mysterious person behind it.  
  
         Julian, who had his arm slung across the back of the settee he and Sirius occupied, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing against Sirius's shoulder while Sirius tried very hard to ignore him, suddenly entered into the conversation, his 'Inspector Thorpe' persona surging to the forefront as he worked to solve the problem of identifying Severus's attacker. "Do you think you could remember enough about him to describe him to Aiya? I know she worked as a sketch artist for the local law enforcement while living abroad. If she could draw up a composite of your attacker, it would make him much easier to find."  
  
         "Yes, I remember her mentioning that," Harry said, his glum expression brightening. "I saw three new Death Eaters during my vision - she could draw up sketches of them as well." And, he realized, he could ensure the accuracy of the drawings by just showing Aiya, mind to mind, the faces of the men in his vision.   
  
         "That helps us a little," Sirius broke in, shrugging to dislodge the bold caress of Julian's hand over his shoulder, "but it doesn't solve the problem of what to do with Snape. He obviously can't go back to the school if they think he's dead."  
  
         "Angling for a roommate, Black?" Severus couldn't resist the snide remark. "Your generosity continues to astound me."  
  
         "I was thinking more along the lines of shipping you off to Siberia," Sirius growled back.  
  
         "Well, wherever Severus goes, I go," Harry said, curling his fingers around Severus's free hand and holding tight. He'd just gone through the hell of almost losing Severus. There was no way he was going to be separated from him now.  
  
         "You have to return to Hogwarts, Harry," Sirius insisted. "You're safer there."  
  
         "Not necessarily," Severus said coolly. "Lucius put two and two together about Aiya being the new professor at Hogwarts. It's only a matter of time before his thoughts turn to Harry. No public institution that falls under the jurisdiction of the Ministry would be safe for Harry then."  
  
         "Lucius does pull a lot of strings at the Ministry," Arthur conceded with a scowl.  
  
         [You and your sister must join the other Mori in the Underground.] Rauko's voice crept into Harry's thoughts like a thief, startling him. Whatever spell Lisette had used to silence her husband did not apply to mindspeaking. [Severus will be welcome there as well. It is the only place you will be safe.]  
  
         [I can't run away from this war.] Harry met Rauko's violet gaze across the room.  
  
         "What do you think, Albus?" Remus had turned to Dumbledore for his opinion, and Harry quickly shut Rauko out of his thoughts as much as possible so he could hear the answer.  
  
         Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and stroked his long beard, his eyes as cold and blue as a clear winter sky. "I must admit, I am at a loss. Hogwarts is now under intense scrutiny from the Ministry. I fear that Severus is right, and Harry is no longer safe at the school. However, it would be much more suspicious for Harry to suddenly disappear - at the same time as Miss Graham, no less - than if he were to stay at the school a while longer, then leave quietly at the first convenient opportunity."  
  
         "No later than the end of January," Lisette added. All eyes turned to her and she explained tactfully, "Harry's appearance by then will raise too many questions, and the heavy glamours needed to conceal a pregnancy are detrimental to the development of the baby."  
  
         "Duly noted." Dumbledore steepled his fingers under his chin and carried on. "I imagine it would be no hard task to hide Severus at Hogwarts during that time - as far as we know, no one will be looking for a dead man."  
  
         [There is no guarantee of that,] Rauko whispered to Harry. [It is folly to assume that Lucius believes his own lies.]  
  
         [If Dumbledore thinks it's safe, then it must be true.] Harry couldn't contain his amusement as he responded to Rauko's invasive warnings with a show of support for Dumbledore's opinions, knowing how much it would rankle the Mori leader to hear Harry take Dumbledore's advice over Rauko's own suggestions.  
  
         Rauko glared at Harry, a loud hum of irritation trapped behind his sealed lips. [At least take Julian with you for protection. He can guard you and teach you in place of Aiya.]  
  
         Harry rolled his eyes. _I'd better agree with him on this or he'll never stop bugging me_ , he thought, and so he nodded at Rauko, adding conditionally, [Only if Julian agrees. Don't force him to - ] but he could tell when Rauko's attention had switched away from him, that darkening purple gaze seeking out Julian with a swiftness that Harry found quite comical. It didn't take long for Julian to react to being the sudden focus of Rauko's wordless demands.   
  
         "Oh, for the love of - _will you stop that_?" Julian had taken to massaging his temples as he glared at Rauko. "I told you I'd shadow him and I meant it. Quit creeping around in my brain."  
  
         Lisette sighed and stood up, dragging her husband up with her as she smiled apologetically at everyone in the room. "We will abide by whatever decisions you make on this matter. Aiyana and Dorian will return with us to the Underground for the time being, but Severus and Harry are free to go where they choose."   
  
         "But I thought - well, can't Dorian stay with - with me?" Harry had almost said ' _with us_ ,' but he wasn't sure yet how Severus would feel about taking on the responsibility of a second child when he'd only just learned about Harry's pregnancy.   
  
         "Dorian has grandparents who would be more than willing to take care of him," Lisette said softly, though there was a pleased smile curving her lips after hearing Harry's wish to care for Dorian. "We don't want you to feel obligated, Harry. Raising a child is no easy task, and you are already under enormous strain what with this war and with your own pregnancy. This might be more than you can handle."  
  
         "You talk as if you think he'll actually back down," Severus said with a smirk. He looked down at Dorian who was still slumbering peacefully with his little fingers grasping onto the front of Severus's robes, then up at Harry, that mocking smile softening as he captured Harry's gaze. "This is Potter we're talking about, after all. Stubborn to a fault, never listens to reason … and a firm believer in impossible odds."  
  
         A thrill coursed through Harry at hearing Severus paraphrase Harry's own words from a previous conversation, from that time they had been discussing the likelihood of Severus surviving the war - _I happen to believe in impossible odds_ , he'd said - and, so far, his optimism had proven well-founded.   
  
         [I can't believe you remember that,] Harry said, his cheeks growing hot under Severus's piercing black stare.  
  
         Rauko's mouth opened with an audible pop as Lisette's spell wore off, and he worked his jaw for a moment before saying, "I will agree to allow Dorian to stay with Harry as long as Severus commits to being turned."  
  
         Several of the gathered wizards and witches groaned, mostly those who had heard similar bartering over Severus during lunch.   
  
         "That's not fair!" Harry could feel dark energy exploding inside of him, swelling and expanding throughout his body, triggered by the way Rauko was taking advantage of Harry's attachment to Dorian to force that choice on Severus. It was devious and unethical - _and quite brilliant_ , Harry grudgingly admitted, but from the looks on Julian's and Lisette's faces it was nothing new from the Mori leader.   
  
         Rauko smiled placidly, unconcerned with the sight of a near-feral Harry. "It is most certainly fair. Mori children should be raised by other Mori. Why fight me on this, Harry? You want Severus to be turned just as much as I do."  
  
         "That isn't the point," Harry forced out between clenched teeth, but then Severus's hand was grasping his upper arm and pulling Harry back down onto the sofa, exuding an air of unruffled calm as he then turned to Rauko.  
  
         "Your only request is that I agree to be turned?"  
  
         Rauko bared his teeth in a triumphant grin, certain that he'd finally won an argument after a long day of disappointments. "It is all I ask."  
  
         "Severus, you don't have to - "  
  
         "Agreed," Severus cut off Harry's protest with that one word, handing off Dorian to a stunned Harry before rising to his feet and extending his hand to Rauko. "You have my word on it."  
  
         Rauko shook that outstretched hand. "It is done, then."  
  
         "Severus, are you sure this is what you want?" Dumbledore asked quietly, his blue eyes troubled as he watched the two men make their deal.  
  
         "I only agreed to be turned, Albus." Severus reclaimed his seat by Harry and Dorian. "I never said when it would happen. Perhaps I'll wait a decade or two."  
  
         Absolute silence reigned over the room for several minutes before Ron's snort of laughter broke the tense atmosphere, followed by Hermione's giggle and full belly-laughs from the twins. Harry joined in, delighted that Severus had managed to outmaneuver Rauko - the Puppet Master himself - and from the look on Rauko's face, he was not accustomed to being duped so easily.  
  
         "That isn't exactly what I had in mind," he stated icily.  
  
         "We all heard what you said," Julian taunted him. "Your only request was that Severus agree to be turned, and he did."  
  
         "You aren't going to break the deal, are you?" Harry asked with an innocent expression, though there was no disguising the glimmer of mischief in the grassy green of his eyes.  
  
         "I never go back on my word," Rauko said stiffly, chin tilted at a haughty angle. Even in defeat, Rauko struck an imposing figure.  
  
         Lisette ushered her husband towards the door. "On that note, I believe it is time for us to go. I will need to examine Harry in three weeks' time to monitor the baby's development, but such arrangements can be made at a later time. We will return for Aiyana in the morning. Goodnight to you all."  
  
         A chorus of farewells rose in response, though some, like Ron, were still trying to catch their breath after a hearty round of laughter.  
  
         "We should all get some sleep," Dumbledore said, his old bones creaking as he rose to his feet. "Our choices, limited as they are, will surely become clearer to us by the light of morning."  
  
         Everyone began to talk at once, chattering amongst themselves while some began to file towards the doorway. Harry lifted Dorian into his arms and slowly stood up, then glanced at Severus, well aware that Severus was exhausted and most likely could not make the trek back up the stairs unsupported. He was about to suggest Severus sit down and wait for Draco to return when Ron popped up at his shoulder and offered to help Severus up to his room. No one was more surprised at this than Severus, but he accepted Ron's offer with a brisk nod of his head and left Harry and Dorian to follow behind with Hermione.  
  
         "I'm worried about Draco," Hermione whispered to Harry as they walked out of the meeting room and towards the stairs.  
  
         "About _who_?" Harry looked at her in disbelief.  
  
         "You heard me," she said impatiently. "I think … I think he might do something drastic. He was very upset, and he just seems the type who would …. well … "  
  
         "… do something incredibly stupid? Yes, I'd have to agree with you there."   
  
         She huffed in frustration. "Listen to me, Harry. There's something different about Draco. I really think he's changed."  
  
         "Oh, you mean like when he called you 'mudblood' on the first day of classes?"  
  
         "He can still be a nasty git - fine. We both agree on that. But would the old Draco have come to you for help like he did? He choked down his pride and he came to you for a _favor_. That's pretty drastic, don't you think?"  
  
         Harry mulled it over and decided that, yes, Draco's actions did reek of desperation. "Fine, I'll talk to him, but I'm sure he and Aiya are holed up somewhere hashing things out and I don't want to interrupt them. I'll pull him aside first thing in the morning, okay?"  
  
         Hermione nodded, a relieved smile breaking out on her face.  
  
         "You're really becoming quite the mother hen, you know?" he teased her, chuckling softly.  
  
         " _I'm_ the mother hen?" she asked incredulously, glancing down at the child in his arms then back up at Harry with a grin.  
  
         "You're both crazy, if you ask me. Now get a move on, will you?" Ron called back over his shoulder.  
  
         The two indulged in one last laugh before following Severus and Ron up to the second floor.  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         _… wish that old wizard would give me back my gun already. Practically feel naked without it …._  
  
         "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Sirius."  
  
         "Yes, Sirius - do try to get some sleep, will you? And try not to worry so much …"  
  
         _… sofa looks comfortable. Maybe I'll sleep down here, tonight. Though **his** bed felt awfully soft this afternoon … wouldn't mind giving it a go between **those** sheets one of these days …_  
  
         "Sirius? Sirius, what's wrong? You're turning red."  
  
         _… those long legs wrapped around me, that throaty voice calling my name over and over and -_  
  
         "Quit getting inside my head," Sirius snapped at Julian, who was lounging idly beside him on the settee.  
  
         Tonks stared at Sirius in confusion. "What are you going on about now?"  
  
         Julian stirred himself from his wicked musings, his mouth curving into a lazy grin as he glanced at Sirius. The broadcasting of his thoughts had been completely unintentional, but it confirmed the presence of a tentative bond between them, and this pleased him greatly. [That? That was nothing … ]  
  
         Sirius braced himself against the seductive whisper of Julian's voice in his head, twice as potent when he was intentionally pressing himself into Sirius's thoughts as compared to when Sirius had merely overheard him.   
  
         [When I'm finally inside you - ] he purred into Sirius's unguarded mind, the husky inflection to his tone indicating that he was no longer talking about mindspeaking, [ - _you'll know it_.]  
  
         "Sirius? Sirius!"  
  
         He blinked and looked up to see both Remus and Tonks hovering over him in concern.  
  
         "What? I … I didn't hear what you said."  
  
         Remus shot Julian a suspicious glance, then turned back to his friend with a warm smile. "I was saying that Tonks and I are going now, and that I'll talk to you tomorrow."  
  
         "Oh. Oh! Yes, tomorrow … that's fine." Sirius didn't trust his legs to hold him up at the moment, so he chose to remain seated instead of walking Tonks and Remus to the door.   
  
         "Are you sure you're alright?" Tonks peered at him curiously, hands firmly planted on her hips.  
  
         "Never better," he lied smoothly, flashing her a grin, all the while keenly aware of Julian's gaze as it trailed down the side of his throat to his chest, then lower, the sensation of being studied so intently acting like a physical caress against his skin. He was having difficulty preventing his body's instinctive reaction to such a bold stare.  
  
         "Don't stay up too late," Remus said, then grimaced, as if realizing how ridiculously paternal he sounded. Clearing his throat gruffly, he nodded curtly at Julian, then reached down and clapped a hand to Sirius's shoulder. "Harry's going to be just fine. You'll see."  
  
         Sirius pasted on a smile to pacify Remus and Tonks, waiting until they had left the room before allowing the corners of his mouth to sink into a frown.  
  
         "I take it Remus was always the dependable one in your group of friends." Julian turned sideways, kicking his feet up so that they rested in Sirius's lap, a playful grin on his lips.  
  
         "For the most part," Sirius admitted, then he growled, "I'm not your footstool," and shoved Julian's feet off his lap.  
  
         In the blink of an eye, Julian sprang forward, trapping Sirius against the settee with his sinuous body, his hands placed strategically to bar his escape.   
  
         "And _you_ … you were the hotheaded one … the rebel …" Julian's eyes were now the cat's-eye yellow that had entranced Sirius so many times before. "Isn't that right?"  
  
         "Get off of me." Sirius's voice sounded weak and indecisive to his own ears, much to his chagrin.   
  
         Julian made no move to obey him, choosing instead to bend forward and brush his lips against Sirius's throat, drinking in his scent, his behavior similar to how he'd acted earlier that day in Sirius's bedroom.   
  
         "Do you know how a Shadowclaw finds its mate?" His voice was low and gutteral.   
  
         Sirius could barely understand what he was asking him. All he could focus on was the sensual brush of Julian's lips against his skin when he was talking, the puff of hot breath against his neck, then the rasp of teeth as Julian bit down, showing great restraint as he reluctantly pulled away just before breaking the skin, soothing the reddened mark with his tongue while Sirius moaned low in approval. When he spoke again, his lips were at Sirius's ear, his voice regressing even further into an animalistic growl, "I knew you were mine from the second I first scented you."  
  
         This possessive declaration made its way into Sirius's consciousness and he realized how close he'd been to giving over all control to the aggressive morion that was now nearly straddling his lap. _What am I doing?_ was his panicked thought, and he placed his hands against Julian's chest and pushed. "Get off!"   
  
         Just as quickly as he'd first pounced on Sirius, Julian backed off, raking a hand through his dark brown hair as he walked away from the settee, obviously struggling to regain some control over his baser instincts. Sirius remained where he was, panting heavily and trying to comprehend what had just happened. His traitorous body begged for a return of Julian's dizzying heat, and his neck stung from where Julian had bit him, that ache shooting straight to his groin, leaving Sirius mortified as he realized how hard he was after just one little bite.   
  
         _He's forcing this on me somehow_ , Sirius thought wildly, grasping for any excuse, no matter how implausible, to explain his fierce attraction to Julian.   
  
         Julian hissed something in Elvish and spun around, his golden gaze livid. " _Forcing_ you?" He stalked forward, closing the distance between them that he'd so respectfully allowed after Sirius's rejection, grasping the front of Sirius's shirt in his fist and yanking him forward. "Your body knows what it wants, Sirius. I can prove it," and he captured Sirius's lips in a bruising kiss.  
  
         It was brief and brutal, that kiss, but by the time it ended Sirius had been coaxed out of his initial struggles and was starting to kiss him back, his fingers threading into Julian's hair as he allowed Julian's tongue to plunder his mouth. Julian capped off his successful experiment with a nip at Sirius's lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but it sent a shudder of awareness through Sirius that proved Julian's point to both of them.  
  
         They stared at each other for several seconds afterwards, gold meeting gray, but then the storm clouds gathered again in Sirius's expression and his fist was flying before he'd even thought about it, striking Julian hard enough to send him reeling back and busting his lip wide open.  
  
         Julian winced as he touched two fingers to his bleeding lip, staring hard at the red wetness staining his fingertips, then down at a speechless Sirius. He held his gaze for a long moment, then slowly placed the fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean.   
  
         Sirius swallowed hard.  
  
         Julian titled his head to the side, his wounded lips curving into a bittersweet smile. He seemed to be pondering something before he said decisively, "It was worth it," and started for the door.  
  
         Sirius found himself reluctant to see him go. He jumped to his feet, calling out, "Why are you doing this? Is it some trick? You said before I needed a distraction … is that all this is to you? Are you just trying to keep my mind off of killing Severus? Is this all for his sake? Or Harry's?"   
  
         Julian paused in the doorway, flashing a bloody grin at Sirius over his shoulder as he answered quietly, "Not at all. My motives are entirely selfish."   
  
         And after a last, lingering appraisal of the flushed and flustered wizard he was leaving behind, Julian walked away.  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
         Harry woke in the middle of the night, curled against Severus's side with one leg hooked over his thigh. He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at his sleeping lover, thanking every deity he could think of for letting Severus return to him alive, if a little worse for wear.   
  
         _One good thing about this whole mess … no more spying_ , Harry thought.  
  
         [Harry?]  
  
         He tensed up, half-expecting Aiya to jump out of the shadows at him, but her presence remained solely in his thoughts. He relaxed, asking peevishly, [Why are you up so late?]  
  
         [You give me your excuse and I'll give you mine,] came her teasing retort, but then her lighthearted humor wilted and she was talking to him in a softer, sadder tone of voice. [We're going to be separated, you and I.]  
  
         Harry sighed, sinking back down onto the bed and cuddling closer to Severus. He had tried not to think about Aiya leaving him, but it wasn't as if he could change reality by ignoring the parts of it he didn't like. [I know. Lisette said you're leaving in the morning.]  
  
         [Sooner than that,] she said mysteriously. A long pause followed this, and Harry imagined he could hear snatches of other people talking and a great whirring noise in the background.   
  
         [What's that sound?] he asked her suspiciously.  
  
         Another pause, then the longest, warmest mental hug his sister had ever given him. [I just want you to know how much I love you, Harry. There's so much I wanted to tell you, so many things we never got to share … and I don't know how long it will be until we see each other again.]  
  
         Harry's instincts flared to life and he sat straight up in bed, rousing Severus from his own peaceful slumber as he rolled over and tried to pull Harry back down to the mattress, murmuring drowsily, "Go back to sleep, Harry."  
  
         [Aiya?]  
  
         A wave of sorrow crashed into Harry's mind and knocked the breath from his body - his sister was in agony, but why?   
  
         _I should have checked on her after what happened at the meeting_ , Harry chastised himself, and again he called out to her, [Aiya? Aiya, talk to me!]  
  
         [Sorry, Harry, but I have to go.]  
  
         _The words from his dream_. Harry knocked Severus's arm away and scrambled out of the bed, pausing only long enough to shrug into a robe before he was flying out of the bedroom and running down the hall to where Aiya was staying. He threw open the door and found an empty room.  
  
         [Aiya, where are you? Tell me,] he pleaded with her, his heart pounding. _She wouldn't go to Lucius … that was just a dream, right? Where is she?_ [Aiya, come back so we can talk. If something's bothering you, we can find a way to solve it together.]  
  
         [This is the only way.]  
  
         Those five dreaded words were enough to send Harry rushing over to the room Draco had been given, pounding his fist on the door and yelling for Draco to wake up and let him in. When he received no answer, Harry ran back to the bedroom for his wand, ignoring Severus's alarmed expression. He unlocked the door and nearly wrenched the knob off in his hurry to get inside.  
  
         Empty.  
  
         [Aiya, please don't - ]  
  
         Harry's plea was cut short when the link between his mind and his sister's was suddenly snuffed out.   
  
         Harry sank to the floor, his hands falling uselessly to his sides, his wand dropping to the ground with a clatter. _Gone_. That close connection he'd counted on since first becoming a Mori was gone. No matter how hard he tried to reach her, he couldn't find Aiya anymore, couldn't feel her presence or hear her voice.   
  
         Severus limped into the room, his face tight and drawn with pain, but his own discomfort mattered little once he spotted Harry sitting silent and dejected in the middle of the empty room.   
  
         "Harry?" He approached him slowly, kneeling down beside him and placing one hand on his back. "What's wrong? What happened?"  
  
         "She's gone," came the listless reply. "Aiya's gone."  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **Atar** \- father  
>  **Coi'e'gurtha** \- literally translates to "to live in death"


	38. Moving Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW:** Dubious consent (due to drinking).

 

       _She isn't dead._  
  
       "Dumbledore has offered to place Aiya's things in a vault at Gringotts along with most of Callie's and Andrew's possessions. Fortunately, he lied to Lucius about which rooms were Aiya's when the Aurors came to search the school, so nothing has been confiscated by the Ministry. We can decide what to do with everything later."  
  
       _She isn't dead, Harry. Please believe us._  
  
       "Rauko is canvassing the local train stations to see if Aiya or Draco purchased tickets in the last twelve hours. Of course, they could be flying … but Aiya hates to fly, and if they wanted to keep a low profile, it would be easier to mix in with Muggles."  
  
       _She left so they could be together._  
  
       "Why did she break her connection to me?" Harry wasn't sure if he was asking this of Lisette or of the many Mori spirits who had crowded into his brain, but he didn't much care who answered him as long as the answer satisified his wounded feelings.  
  
       "To hide," Lisette said softly. "Her father could easily have ripped her location from her mind if she'd remained connected to the Mori, so she detached herself from us."  
  
       "Is it permanent?" Harry was horrified at the thought. If Aiya died, she would be just like Callie, a Voiceless spirit, and he would never again hear his sister's voice, would never hear her teasing laughter or engage in a round of sibling banter with her.  
  
       "Not necessarily." Lisette smiled weakly, placing a small box of herbs into Harry's school bag. She had rushed over to Grimmauld Place as soon as she'd felt the loss of Aiya's presence, and she'd stayed through until morning to help Harry prepare for the return to Hogwarts as well as to lend him the unspoken familial support that he usually relied on Aiya to supply. "The bond can be repaired."  
  
       "As long as she doesn't die first," Harry said bitterly. How could his sister be so reckless? So much like  … well, so much like a Gryffindor! Wasn't she supposed to be a Slytherin? She was supposed to be cunning and calculated, erring on the side of caution rather than running headlong into danger. His dream from two nights ago kept flashing through his brain and he asked Lisette cautiously, "You don't think she would … go after Lucius, do you?"  
  
       Her shrewd blue gaze fell on him with sudden and piercing intensity. "Why do you ask that, Harry?"  
  
       He reluctantly described the dream, not leaving out a single detail. Lisette winced at the part where both Aiya and Lucius were consumed by the magical fire, and for the first time Harry experienced unguarded emotions from the gentle morwen, a fierce protectiveness mixed with terror, but there was still a certain amount of control to Lisette's instinctive responses, a forced acceptance of horror and death that Harry attributed to her lifelong work as a healer.  
  
       "How pregnant were you in this dream?" Lisette asked quietly, holding Harry's hands over his stomach and allowing him to estimate how large the bump under his clothes had been. She stepped back, twisting her wedding ring as she studied Harry, then nodded and smiled at him. "I'd say that gives us until January."  
  
       Harry dropped his hands to his sides. "What do you mean?"  
  
       "Whatever fate has in store for Aiya, it probably won't happen until you're as pregnant as you were in the dream. Most likely it will occur at the school, as well, since that is where your dream took place."  
  
       _Yes, every detail in a dream is important, Harry_. It was a hoarse, wizened voice that harrumphed its way into Harry's mind this time. _Some dreams are warnings, others are simply to prepare you for the future - it is up to you to interpret which is which._  
  
       _Well, that dream about Aiya had better just be a warning or I'm blocking the whole lot of you out of my mind for good_ , Harry snapped. How helpful were the spirits if the information they gave him was useless to him when it really counted? Would his dreams always lead to a tragic end, like with Andrew and Callie? What point was there in having these dreams if he could never change the outcome?  
  
       Voices from the hallway brought Harry out of his anguished thoughts, and a genuine smile spread over his lips as Dorian scampered into the room still dressed in his footsie pajamas, with a harried Severus and an amused Dumbledore trailing behind.  
  
       "How can there be so much energy stuffed into such a little body?" Severus voice was pure exasperation, but there was a glimmer in his pitch-black eyes that indicated he didn't really mind chasing after the bright-eyed fledgling.  
  
       [Did he tire you out?] Harry asked with a chuckle. [Funny, you usually have such stamina …]  
  
       Heat flared in Severus's eyes. His voice was little more than a husky whisper as he murmured, [Now is neither the time nor the place to prove my stamina, Potter, but I'll be sure to give you a sampling of it once we're alone.]  
  
       Harry basked in his lover's hungry gaze, thankful that he'd already put on his robes and that his instant erection was hidden beneath the voluminous folds of material.  
  
       Lisette appeared to sense the sudden rise in tension and tactfully excused herself, staying only as long as it took to kiss Dorian and Harry goodbye, favor Severus with an affectionate smile, and shake Dumbledore's hand in farewell.  
  
       "An excellent witch - a pity we lost her to the Mori," Dumbledore said with a thoughtful stroke of his beard. "We could have used someone with her skill during the last conflict with Voldemort."  
  
       Severus tore his gaze away from Harry, slightly flushed, and instead focused his attention on Dorian as he began to change him out of his pajamas and into a fresh set of clothing. Any awkwardness he might have felt at being thrust into a parental role towards the little boy was expertly hidden away behind that impenetrable expressionless mask he always wore, and he even managed to carry on the conversation with Dumbledore in the midst of making sure Dorian didn't put his pants on backwards or his shirt on inside-out. "There could still be a use for Lisette; the Longbottoms, in particular, could benefit from her expertise, but until the Mori can safely return to the wizarding world, her talents will continue to go to waste."  
  
       Dumbledore sighed, looking again as if he'd aged considerably in the last two days, but he smiled fondly at Harry as he turned to him. "The rest of our party is packed up and ready to leave whenever you are, Harry. Julian has volunteered to take you and Dorian through the void to Hogsmeade while the rest of us use apparition, then we shall all carry on to Hogwarts together. Classes have been cancelled for the remainder of the week due to Professor Snape's death," here, an amused glance at Severus, "and to allow us time to fill the two vacant positions in our staff. Unfortunately, it appears the Ministry might be foisting their own hand-picked teachers on us in light of my 'disastrous' choice of Miss Graham for Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."  
  
       "Perhaps they will be generous enough to provide us with another Umbridge," Severus said with a mocking smile.  
  
       Harry shuddered. " _Ick!_ Don't even joke about that."  
  
       Dumbledore merely smiled. Then, as if a light had suddenly clicked on in his brain, he reached inside of his robes, pulled out a thick black envelope, and handed it to Harry. "Forgive me, Harry, my mind isn't what it used to be. I wanted to give you this last night."  
  
       Harry turned the heavy envelope over in his hands, noting the official Ministry seal. His name was written on the front of the envelope in silver ink. "What is it?"  
  
       "Your inheritance."  
  
       "My what?"  
  
       "Inheritance, Potter," Severus cut in sharply, not looking up from his task of tying Dorian's shoes. "What you receive when someone dies."  
  
       "I know the definition," Harry glared at his lover, then turned back to Dumbledore with a confused frown, "but who am I inheriting from? Sirius is the only real family I have left in the wizarding world, so who do I know that's died and would name me in their - "  
  
       He fell silent. _Severus?_ Had Severus included Harry in his will?  
  
       One didn't have to be a Mori to know what Harry was thinking, and Dumbledore nodded his confirmation of Harry's unspoken realization. "The Ministry declared Severus dead after examining extracted memories from the eyewitness in the case against Miss Graham. After hearing Severus's version of the events of that night, I suspect the memories in question belonged to Lucius. With the 'evidence' of the Killing Curse striking Severus in the chest, no one can be in any doubt of his untimely end, and you, dear boy, are the only recipient named in his will."  
  
       Harry looked over at Severus but the man was busy - or pretending to be busy - with coaxing Dorian into wearing a jacket for the trip to Hogwarts, exhibiting unnatural patience and gentleness with the child as he helped him slip his right arm into the corresponding sleeve.  
  
       Still, tender domestic scene or not, Harry wasn't about to let Severus get by without answering a few questions. [When did you put me in your will?]  
  
       "Giraffe or no giraffe?" Severus asked Dorian, holding up the stuffed toy in question as he thoroughly ignored Harry's inquiry.  
  
       Dorian screwed up his face in serious contemplation, then shook his head. "No giraffe."  
  
       "No giraffe it is," Severus said, placing Geoffrey back in Dorian's bag and zipping it shut.  
  
       _Does he really think ignoring me is going to work?_ Harry sighed and continued to pester Severus for a response. [You know me better than this. I'm not going to let this go, so you might as well tell me now.]  
  
       "I believe I will go see if everyone else is ready to leave," Dumbledore said, taking his leave of the room with the twinkle back in his eyes.  
  
       [ _Severus_ …]  
  
       "Your fourth year - when _He_ returned," Severus grudgingly confessed.  
  
       Harry stared at him in astonishment. If Severus had changed his will a month ago, he could understand. Even the beginning of the school year made sense. But _three years_ ago?  
  
       "Why? You hated me back then." Harry picked up Dorian's bag.  
  
       "No, _you_ hated _me_ ," Severus clarified, holding out his hand for the bag that Harry had just taken, "and you shouldn't be lifting anything heavy. Hand it over."  
  
       "That's ridiculous!" Harry protested. "Besides, you're the injured one. What makes you think you can carry this bag any better than I can?"  
  
       " _I_ can carry it better than _both_ of you," Julian said as he popped into the room. He plucked the bag out of Harry's hand effortlessly, then surveyed all three of them with a wide grin, his lower lip slightly swollen. "Ready?"  
  
       "Just about." Harry stuffed the black envelope into his school bag and defiantly lifted it onto his shoulder, bristling as Severus frowned at him disapprovingly. "Oh, put a charm on it, then, if you're _that_ worried, but I'm carrying it no matter what you say."  
  
       Almost instantly, the bag went from 'somewhat heavy' to 'lighter than a bag of cotton balls' and Harry rolled his eyes. If Severus was this protective now, what was he going to be like when Harry was actually showing?  
  
       [You're in for a long pregnancy,] Julian quipped goodnaturedly, cheerfully disregarding the way Harry's jade eyes were shooting daggers at him.  
  
       [Butt out,] he grumbled, unconsciously rubbing soothing circles over his stomach. In return, a wave of heady euphoria swept through Harry's mind and he rocked unsteadily on his feet.  
  
       _All of you Evernights are such show-offs, even in the womb_ , a Mori spirit's voice rang hollowly in Harry's mind, followed by the cold slap of Severus's fear as he grabbed Harry's arms, the intrusion of his panicked emotions working better than an entire bucket of icy water to snap Harry out of his dizzy spell.  
  
       "Are you in pain? What's wrong?"  
  
       "I think the baby is … _happy_ ," Harry said, hardly comprehending his own words.  
  
       Julian chuckled, his golden gaze narrowing in on Harry's stomach. "The baby is projecting already? That's quite a feat, even for a natural-born. Rauko will be ecstatic."  
  
       Harry stared at him quizzically - _how the hell was the baby projecting anything at this stage?_ \- and Severus scowled in disgust at how embarrassingly ignorant the both of them were about this pregnancy.  
  
       "Where is that know-it-all Granger when we need her?" He steered Harry over to the ancient rocking chair beside the bed and made him sit down before hobbling out into the hallway in search of Hermione, the wizarding world's new expert on all things Mori.  
  
       Harry continued to rub his stomach, smiling when Dorian climbed up into his lap and joined in, though his was more of a reassuring pat than a rub. That rush of happiness that Harry had intially felt soon eased into a constant hum of contentment, as if a Mori spirit had taken up permanent residence in his thoughts, but instead of a barrage of words and advice this spirit was flooding him with emotions and sensations.  
  
       "Severus wouldn't be so jumpy if he was turned," Julian mentioned casually, now leaning against the doorframe with Dorian's bag tucked under one arm.  
  
       "Not you too," Harry groaned. He heard enough of this sort of talk from Rauko.  
  
       "It's only a suggestion," Julian said with a shrug. "Of course, if _I_ turn him, don't expect to get any sleep for at least a week afterwards."  
  
       Harry's brow furrowed. "Why is that?"  
  
       "Shadowclaws are driven to mark their territory, _especially_ their mates. You'll be lucky if he lets you get out of bed at all for the first few days." Julian grinned as a dark crimson blush spread over Harry's face. Dorian's eyes widened at the sight and he reached up to press his little hands to Harry's cheeks, patting them as comfortingly as he'd patted Harry's stomach.  
  
       Severus limped back into the room, a glass of bluish liquid in his hand. "Granger says it's 'highly unusual but not unheard of' for the baby to be projecting basic emotions at this stage of development - " he paused in his explanation when he saw how red Harry's face was. "Did I miss something?"  
  
       "Only a lesson on what to expect from a feral Shadowclaw." Julian sidled past him out the door, winking at Harry before looking back at Severus with a blank, innocent expression. "I'll see you three downstairs," and he popped out of sight just as abruptly as he'd appeared.  
  
       "He reminds me of someone," Severus said crankily, "and I don't think it was someone I liked."  
  
       Harry smirked. "That doesn't exactly narrow the field, you know."  
  
       "Still ... I suppose I could do worse for a brother," he grudgingly admitted, and Harry hid a smile. It seemed that Julian was already forming a tentative bond with Severus, though he applauded Julian's wisdom in keeping that bond to the minimum for now so that Severus didn't feel threatened.  
  
       "Drink this down and we'll be on our way." Severus handed the glass of blue liquid to Harry and watched as he choked down the god-awful potion that was supposed to ease his sunsickness during the pregnancy.  
  
       _Ugh, that's terrible stuff_ , Harry complained silently, fighting the urge to gag on the potion's strongly bitter aftertaste. He'd asked Severus to keep the ingredients a secret since he really didn't want to know what gave the potion its distinct sewer-like smell. It took him close to fifteen minutes to drain the glass completely - Severus made sure he drank every drop - but surprisingly, once it was down, it stayed down, so there was no danger of Harry having to take a second dose because he'd thrown up the first one.  
  
       Dorian held Harry's now-empty glass up to his nose, then scrunched up his face in disgust, giving his brutally honest opinion of, "Yucky."  
  
       "Definitely yucky," Harry agreed, placing the empty glass on the bedside table. He set the four-year-old down, quietly asking him to hold still while he zipped up the front of his little green jacket. [Dressing him in Slytherin colors already?] Harry admonished Severus with a grin before he stood up himself, reclaiming his feather-light bag and tucking his wand into a hidden pocket in his robes.  
  
       "Will you need some help getting down the stairs?" he asked Severus, his eyes a light, mossy green.  
  
       "I am perfectly capable of walking, thank you," Severus replied gruffly, then apologized for his grouchy answer by drawing Harry to him for a gentle kiss, lingering in his possession of those soft lips, but ever mindful of the pint-sized spectator gazing up at them with curious blue eyes, preventing him from thoroughly ravishing Harry like he wanted to.  
  
       [The sooner we get back, the sooner I can prove my stamina,] he suggested wickedly, his inky black gaze a seduction of its own in the way it seemed to strip Harry's clothes from his body and devour him whole.  
  
       Harry bit down on his lower lip, stifling the moan of anticipation that threatened to break free.  
  
       The lecherous gleam in Severus's eyes faded, only to be replaced by something deeper, his jaw tightening as a pained expression showed through the cracks in his normally stoic mask. "Harry, I want you to know … I lo - "  
  
       "Oi! Harry! Time to go!" Ron's voice bellowed up the stairs, ruining the moment.  
  
       Severus pressed his lips together in a thin, tight line, his hands clenching momentarily into fists before his shoulders sagged and he turned away, walking to the door as he stated coldly, "We'd best be going, then."  
  
       _Was he about to say …?_ Harry calculated the odds of his emotionally-repressed lover finally opening up and being the first to say those three powerful, soul-baring words, then smiled and shook his head.  
  
       _Nah … couldn't be._  
  


 

*     *     *     *     *     *

 

  
  
       Sirius poured himself another glass of firewhiskey, then raised it in a toast to his own reflection in the bedroom mirror.  
  
       "Cheers," he slurred drunkenly, squinting his eyes at the blurry image of himself and adding loudly, "You look like hell, mate."  
  
       He never took it well when Harry left, but this time felt considerably worse, and it didn't help that he now had Aiya's disappearance on his conscience. Why hadn't he been more suspicious when she'd been interrogating him about his past as a fugitive on the run? All the tips and tricks he'd passed on to her - how was he supposed to know she'd meant to employ them in such a dangerous game of hide and seek? And taking Draco with her … what was she thinking?  
  
       "Love - it makes fools of all of us," he lectured his reflection, a little miffed when the face in the mirror lectured right back, prompting him to snarl, "Oh yeah? What makes you the expert?"  
  
       "He's finally gone off his rocker," the magical mirror muttered to itself, choosing not to incur the wrath of its owner in case Sirius decided to start throwing things.  
  
       Sirius knocked back the shot of whiskey, then fell back onto the bed with a groan. Was Julian right? Was this all his life had become? Cooped up in a house he hated with a house-elf who'd most likely prefer to kill him rather than serve him, his dreary existence tempered only by the rare visit from his godson who now seemed to be starting a family of his own with a man Sirius couldn't stand.  
  
       _He probably won't come back for Christmas_ , Sirius realized, and he fumbled around for the whiskey bottle, determined to drink himself into a coma so he wouldn't have to think anymore. Instead of the errant bottle, however, his hand grabbed onto a muscular thigh. He frowned and tried to sit up while his hand continued to pat along the jean-clad leg of the intruder, still searching for his whiskey.  
  
       "Did it roll off the bed?" he asked dazedly, his garbled question followed by a loud rasp of exasperation from above him, and he tried to sit up for the second time, willing his body to move but never quite making it to an upright position. Finally, exhausted, he splayed his arms wide and closed his eyes. "I give up."  
  
       "If only I could believe that," said the owner of the leg in a sultry voice that managed to stiffen Sirius's cock in spite of the four-fifths of a bottle of whiskey that was currently sloshing around in his system.  
  
       _Bloody miracle, that_ , Sirius thought in wonderment, reaching down to cup the bulge as if to prove to himself that, yes, he really did have an erection.  
  
       "If you weren't drunk, I'd take that as an invitation," the honey-sweet voice said raggedly, that low, rich tone sending another twitch through Sirius's cock.  
  
       "Keep talking," he half-mumbled, half-moaned, rubbing himself through the thin cotton of his trousers, blatantly ignoring the clanging warning bell in his mind that told him to sit up, take stock of exactly who was in his room, and deal with the situation accordingly. After all, when had he ever heeded a warning in his entire life? He laughed in the face of danger, he thumbed his nose at authority, he -  
  
       " _Mmmm_ ," he hummed his pleasure as a tongue, warm and wet, began to lick a slow path along his throat to his jawline, while at the same time, nimble fingers were making short work of his shirt buttons, exposing his chest to the cool, drafty air before those fingers moved on to tease his nipples into stiff peaks.  
  
       Tongue was quickly replaced by teeth, a slow drag of sharp canines against his neck before he felt a nibble at his earlobe, then that sexy voice growled into his ear, "Damn you, Sirius. I came to tell you goodbye, not screw your drunken arse."  
  
       "More," Sirius panted, fumbling at the fastening of his trousers, eager to wrap his fingers around his cock and stroke himself to completion while he still had that arousing voice to stimulate him.  
  
       "You want this? My voice in your ear? My tongue," a flick of wetness along the edge of his ear, "licking you?"  
  
       "Gods, yes," he choked out, giving a short grunt of triumph when he finally freed his cock from his trousers. He heard a harsh intake of breath from the mouth at his ear, then a low groan that sent a jolt of desire through his body, straight to his groin, his fingers tightening around the hard flesh as he began to pump them up and down his shaft.  
  
     _… damnit, he looks good enough to eat … and suck and lick and nibble and … no! Get a grip, Julian. No, not **that** grip …  
_  
       A hand had covered Sirius's, urging him to stroke faster, and he eagerly complied, his desire fueled by the sweet whisper that seemed to be coming from inside his own head now.  
  
       _… oh hell, let go of him, idiot, **let** **go** , this isn't right … and everyone's waiting for you downstairs, it's time to leave… but damned if he isn't begging for it now, so hot and eager for it that he's fucking his own hand … just a taste … just take a little taste, Julian, so you can bear to leave him unmarked …  
_  
       "Please," Sirius pleaded, not quite sure what he was asking for, but positive he was about to get it when he felt the mattress dip next to him. However, a muffled shout from downstairs, audible even through the thick wooden door to Sirius's bedroom, brought everything to a halt …  
  
       "Oi! Harry! Time to go!"  
  
       " _Shit_ ," the voice said, and the bed jostled again, the hand pulling away at the same time and throwing off the rhythm of Sirius's strokes.  
  
       "Whassamatter?" Sirius slurred, once again trying to sit up but no more successful this time than he'd been at any other time.  
  
       _… bad, bad Julian .. you know better than to take advantage like this …_  
  
       And then a tender, chaste kiss was being pressed to Sirius's forehead and the voice was gone, returning only for a brief, [Goodbye, Sirius,] before vanishing completely.  
  
       Sirius remained sprawled on his bed, softening cock in hand, without a clue as to what had just happened to him.

 


	39. The Bond Between Half-Bloods

 

       Newly restored to its full and original dilapidated glory, the Shrieking Shack loomed threateningly in the foggy autumn morning, several skeletal trees towering alongside the “haunted” landmark, their leafless branches stretching out menacingly in all directions as if just waiting to scoop up some hapless passerby. No evidence remained of the extensive damage Harry’s single _reducto_ spell had wreaked on the building, but a trained eye could detect the residual effects of the unintended vandalism. Powerful wards had been erected around the site and fresh footprints in the dirt along the perimeter attested to a recent night-watch, some Auror sent by the Ministry to stake out the scene of the baffling crime, or perhaps to search for clues to the whereabouts of the ‘fugitive’ witch Aiyana Graham.  
  
       The wards were an unexpected nuisance for the three morions traveling independently of the rest of their group, and they were led in circles for several minutes before Harry realized the shadows had been confused by the magical ‘fence’ surrounding the Shrieking Shack.   
  
       [Can’t you wave your wand and make it go away?] Julian asked impatiently. He’d been unusually disgruntled ever since they’d left Grimmauld Place, but Harry found this change in his demeanor refreshing – it was almost endearing to see calm and cheerful Julian in a bad mood.  
  
       [Hermione’s better at breaking into places than I am,] Harry admitted, though not without a chuckle since his straight-laced friend would hardly have appreciated the compliment. [Severus, too. He once untangled my best wards in a matter of seconds. We might as well find a threshold to hide in until they arrive. I’m feeling … _restless_ … and believe me, you don’t want me casting any spells when I feel like this.]  
  
       That surplus of dark energy buzzing around in his body needed Severus’s touch to dispel it, and though Harry valiantly tried to control it, he could tell that the intensity of the magic and darkness roiling and seething inside of him was starting to make Dorian nervous – and prompting similar emotions from Harry’s unborn child.   
  
       [Thresholds out in the open are hard to find during the day, but maybe the fog will help us.] Julian pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slipped them on just before he led Harry and Dorian further into the void.   
  
       [Is it too bright for you in here?] Harry asked teasingly, not sure why the Shadowclaw would need sunglasses in the endless darkness of the void.  
  
       Julian’s chuckle echoed in Harry’s mind, his bad mood evaporating as he guided the other two morions towards the nearest threshold. [Not exactly. I’m just getting prepared for when we leave the void. My eyes don’t work so well in daylight – in fact, they hardly work at all. Dark lenses ease the discomfort, but I have to rely on my other senses to ‘see’ during the day.]  
  
       [Oh. Sorry.] Harry cringed inwardly, but Julian only laughed again.  
  
       [I don’t advertise my handicap, Harry, so don’t feel bad that you didn’t know about it.]  
  
       The threshold that Julian chose for them led into a patch of shadows within a grove of pine trees nearly fifty feet away from the Shrieking Shack, but it offered the best hiding place as the fog began to lift and sunlight streamed into the area through the early morning mist.   
  
       Harry huddled with Dorian in the wind-break that the trees provided while Julian ‘shadow-hopped’ around the area, scouting it for any signs of a lurking Auror or a curious trespasser from Hogsmeade.   
  
       [There’s a wizard nearby,] he warned Harry just before easing out of the void for the last time and joining them in their shadowy refuge. [A big one, too, from the sound of it, with a conflicting scent – a half-breed of some sort.]  
  
       [That could be Hagrid!] Harry recklessly stepped free of the protective darkness of the threshold, shielding his eyes from the sun as he scanned the surrounding countryside, but his impromptu search ended abruptly when a hand reached out and dragged him back into the shadows.  
  
       [Do you realize how many people would gladly kill me if I let anything happen to you?] Julian asked once he’d reeled Harry back in, his tone a blend of exasperation and amusement. [We stay hidden until the others arrive – no exceptions.]  
  
       Harry swallowed his protests and crouched down beside Dorian, focusing all his energy on distracting the fledgling as he recounted watered-down versions of his years at Hogwarts, recalling many of the amazing sights he’d seen but leaving out the multiple attempts made on his life by Voldemort. Halfway through a description of merpeople and how ghastly they sounded above water compared to their underwater musicality, he heard a sound like firecrackers being set off in the distance. Julian tapped his shoulder.  
  
       [They’re here.]  
  
       One tricky maneuver through the void and the morions were reunited with their group in front of the Shrieking Shack, but not without frightening Ron and Hermione with the way they arrived, emerging from the shadows cast by the two teenagers’ bodies since no other threshold could be found in such close proximity to the group. For Julian, it was an easy transition, almost like levitation, but Harry found himself forced to actually climb out of the shadow, not accustomed to that particular type of threshold.  
  
       “I’m going to have nightmares about that,” Ron griped.  
  
       Dorian toddled over to Severus, recognizing him even through his Polyjuice disguise (Fred Weasley had been the donor, much to Harry’s amusement and Severus’s annoyance). He latched onto Severus's robes with one hand while beckoning to Harry with the other, apparently determined to keep his new guardians as close to him as possible.  
  
       “Ministry wards always lack finesse,” Dumbledore said with a sad shake of his head as he examined the invisible wall surrounding the Shrieking Shack.  
  
       “Efficient, if not elegant,” Severus replied in a bored drawl, though the words and tone sounded strange coming out of what appeared to be Fred Weasley’s mouth. “Shall we force our way through or choose another route?”  
  
       “There’s a passage through Honeydukes that leads into the castle,” Harry supplied helpfully.   
  
       Dumbledore stroked his beard, then nodded. “Yes, an alternate route would be best. I have no desire to give the Ministry more reason to flock to this area, and fiddling with one of their wards would certainly rouse suspicion. The fewer Aurors sent to Hogsmeade, the easier our deception will be.”  
  
       Julian turned his head sharply to the left, suddenly stepping into Hermione’s shadow and fading from sight as he whispered to Harry, [That wizard … he’s coming.]  
  
       Harry perked up, his earlier assumption confirmed as he saw the hulking form of Hagrid come stomping over a hill to the left of where the group had gathered.   
  
       “There yeh are, Professor.” Hagrid lumbered over to the group and paused to catch his breath, looking wilder than ever with a few brambles in his beard and a long tear in the sleeve of his huge shirt. “Been waitin’ fer yeh since yeh owled the school. Yeh have … ter come … right away.”  
  
       “What is it, Hagrid?” Dumbledore asked kindly, not in the least disturbed by Hagrid’s unkempt appearance and dramatic greeting.  
  
       “Lucius Malfoy … up at the castle … lookin’ fer yeh.”   
  
       Harry tensed, his thoughts turning immediately to confronting Lucius, fantasies of vengeance and retribution causing the amount of dark energy trapped inside his body to triple. Severus recognized the danger and drew Harry roughly against him, trapping Harry at his side with an arm around his waist. Instantly, the agonizing pressure eased.  
  
       “Not surprising, as I owled him this morning to inform him of the disappearance of his son.” Dumbledore ignored everyone’s stunned looks and continued cheerfully, “Minerva will keep him occupied until I arrive, though this does mean we will need to be doubly cautious in how Severus re-enters the school. Honeydukes, did you say?” He looked at Harry for confirmation. “Very good. Severus and our Mori friends will go through Honeydukes. The rest of us will continue as we are – no one will question a headmaster returning two errant students to their studies.” His eyes twinkled at Ron and Hermione.  
  
       “But sir,” Harry detached himself from Severus’s side, aware that Hagrid was casting curious glances at them both; as far as he knew, Hagrid had no idea about Harry’s relationship with Severus, and it had to be even more confusing to see Harry cozying up to a Fred Weasley look-alike. “We can’t just walk into Honeydukes and say, ‘Hello, can we use the trapdoor in your cellar to sneak into the school?’ And won’t they be suspicious of a student wandering around Hogsmeade?”  
  
       “Hogsmeade visits are allowed this week due to the suspension of classes. No doubt the shop will be full of students, and with your experience in this sort of covert operation,” Dumbledore chuckled at the guilty expression that flitted over Harry’s features, “I am sure you will find a way to pass through Honeydukes undetected.”  
  
       “Harry can take the others through the void and I will find my own way down to the cellar.” Severus picked Dorian up into his arms, nodding once at Dumbledore before he started down the path that would lead into the heart of Hogsmeade.  
  
       [He’s quite the ‘take charge’ sort, isn’t he,] Julian murmured in Harry’s ear, cloaked now in Harry’s shadow – _probably why they call it ‘shadowing’ among the Mori_ , Harry decided.  
  
       [Yeah, he likes to be in control.] Harry hurried to keep up with Severus’s brisk pace, made all the more difficult with the heavy weight of Julian’s presence following him wherever he went.  
  
       Husky laughter rippled across his mind. [In each and every way, I suppose? Your mate sounds more and more like a natural Shadowclaw.]  
  
       [Each and every …] Harry’s confused thought trailed into an embarrassed silence, and he gave Julian a mental shove in retaliation for the sly insinuation. [Very funny.]  
  
       “So why did Dumbledore tell Lucius that Draco had run off?” Harry asked Severus, ignoring the tickle of Julian’s laughter in his mind.  
  
       “Draco’s disappearance will be a black mark on the reputation of Hogwarts. By cooperating as much as possible with the Ministry and with the Malfoy family, Dumbledore will lessen the backlash against the school.”  
  
       “No doubt they’ll blame Aiya for this, too.”  
  
       Severus smiled grimly. “And for once, they’ll be right.”  
  
       “Hey! It could have been Malfoy who decided to run away.” Harry’s loyalty to his sister wouldn’t allow him to believe that she was more at fault than Draco.  
  
       “Without money? Without any means of protecting himself and Aiya?” Severus shook his head in disbelief that Draco would be so reckless. “This is a Slytherin who never makes a move unless he has plotted out his steps carefully. Aiya, on the other hand, is hopelessly impetuous. I wouldn’t be surprised if we all missed out on a spectacular argument between the two of them last night … though it looks like Aiya won that fight.”  
  
       Harry chewed at his lower lip, mostly so the words ‘you’re probably right’ wouldn’t slip out of his mouth. He hated admitting that Severus was right, simply because it happened so often. Instead, he sighed and muttered, “For once, I wish Draco had won.”  
  
  


* * * * *

  
  
  
       Sneaking back into Hogwarts turned out to be easier than Harry had expected. He, Julian, and Dorian used shadows inside the sweets shop to reach the trap door in the basement, and Severus followed a few minutes later, edging past students (some of whom, thinking he was Fred, tried to engage him in conversation as he threaded his way through the crowd) as he snuck down the stairs. Once all four of them were together again, Harry led the way through the secret passage into Hogwarts, thought it was tricky getting up the stone slide and out of the one-eyed crone’s hump. Luckily for the morions, they only needed to dip into the void for a moment or two and reappear in the dark corridor, but Severus had to worm his way up the incline and twist and turn his way out of the cramped opening in the back of the statue. By the time he’d managed to squirm out of the hump and tumble to the floor gracelessly, his sweaty face was streaked with dirt, his robes were torn and wrinkled, and his red hair stuck out at odd angles, turning decidedly black as the polyjuice potion began to wear off.  
  
       “Perhaps I was a bit hasty in refusing to be turned straight away,” he wheezed, his eyes darkening to a piercing jet as he pressed a hand against his chest and winced in pain.  
  
       “Well, your blood donor is skulking around in my shadow as we speak, so anytime you feel like crossing over to the other side, just let him know.” Harry helped Severus to his feet, dusting the dirt and cobwebs from his robes. “But first we need to get you down to the dungeons before anyone sees you.”  
  
       Harry cast a disillusionment charm on Severus just to be safe, then they were off, dodging students and hiding from teachers as they weaved their way down staircases and past empty classrooms, until they finally reached the end of the long hallway in the dungeons where the portrait of the panther hung over the entrance to the room. The sleek black cat seemed to be licking at a spot of red on its fur. The panther looked up peevishly as Harry and his three unseen companions walked towards it, its tail flicking back and forth in annoyance.  
  
       “Oh, just let us in, will you?” Harry was beginning to wonder just how closely Severus and the portrait were connected. When one was in a foul temper, it was a sure bet that the other one was, too.  
  
       The panther turned its head and sauntered away, but a second later the portrait swung open. Once inside the room, Harry flopped down on the sofa and sighed, feeling all the tension seep out of his muscles, leaving him relaxed but exhausted. He had absolutely no inclination at all to move from that spot for the next hour … or day … or week. But being the only person in the room who could safely walk around in the open at Hogwarts put him at quite a disadvantage when things needed to get done.  
  
       “We’ll need to add more rooms on,” Severus said, silently dispelling the charm that allowed him to blend into the background. He was looking and sounding more and more like himself as the Polyjuice potion continued to lose its effect, “and I’ll need someone to bring me some ingredients from my – from the Potions classroom. I’ll write out a list. Granger would be the best choice to go; Weasley would probably break everything – and she should go today, before the new teacher they hire has a chance to take inventory.”  
  
       Julian emerged from the shadows with Dorian, swinging the giggling boy up into his arms before depositing him safely on the sofa next to Harry. “Well, after you deliver Hermione’s shopping list, Harry, you and I should also take a little tour of all the places you go in the castle so I can get a feel for your daily routine.”  
  
       Harry groaned and sank further into the sofa’s plushy cushions. Dorian, not wanting to be left out, executed a brilliant imitation of Harry's world-weary sigh, then crossed his little arms over his chest and scrunched down until he was slouching just like Harry.  
  
       “I won’t have him traipsing all over Hogwarts in his condition,” Severus said testily, “especially with Lucius here.”  
  
       “Harry may be pregnant, but that doesn’t make him entirely vulnerable.” Julian remained calm and reasonable, tying back his long brown hair with a black elastic while smiling knowingly at Severus. “He’ll be perfectly safe – _I’ll_ be with him, after all.”  
  
       “Hardly reassuring.”  
  
       Harry rolled his eyes as the two began to argue back and forth, then quietly eased off of the sofa and stole towards the door, placing a finger against his mouth in a signal for silence when Dorian looked over at him with wide, curious eyes. He really didn’t want to listen to the brotherly bickering going on between Severus and Julian, though it amused him that they were so caught up in their debate that they didn’t even notice when he slipped out of the room and off to the Gryffindor dormitories.  
  
       Julian took off his sunglasses and slid them back into his shirt pocket, revealing eyes that were an unyielding shade of burnished gold. “Look, Severus, he’s safer with me than with anyone. My whole life has been about protecting people. I’m an expert at it, believe me.”  
  
       “You’re an expert at dealing with Muggles, not wizards, and the latter are infinitely more dangerous to Harry, so just take him to the Gryffindor common room and straight back here.”  
  
       “I have faced plenty of wizards in my lifetime – a lifetime which, I’ll remind you, is more than twice the length of yours – so listen to your elder when I say Harry will be fine if we decide to take a jaunt around the castle.”  
  
       “Let’s just ask Harry what he would – ” Severus paused mid-rant, his black gazing boring into the empty spot on the sofa where Harry had recently been reclining. His gaze shifted to Dorian, who had given up his pretense at dejection and was now busy constructing a makeshift fort out of throw pillows. “Dorian, where did Harry go?”  
  
       The little boy looked up, his blue eyes bright with the joy of being helpful as he pointed at the door.  
  
       “Guess that list will have to wait,” Julian said with a smirk.  
  
       Severus started to go after Harry, then stopped, then started again, then turned away from the door with a growl of frustration before barking at Julian, “Well, what are you just standing there for? Go after him!”  
  
       “Whatever you say, _ai’toror_.” Julian winked at the fuming wizard, waved goodbye to Dorian, then merged into the nearest shadow and disappeared into the void.  
  
  


* * * * * *

  
  
  
       Harry rubbed at his left temple as an explosion of Severus’s aggravated emotions slammed into his barriers, the walls in his mind holding well against the onslaught but unable to shield Harry from the initial force of impact. He waited until the brunt of Severus’s anger had faded into a sullen silence before he dropped his barriers, pressing the words, [I’ll make it up to you,] into Severus's mind before blocking him out once again.  
  
       He doubted the wisdom of making such a rash promise without further defining exactly how he would compensate Severus for sneaking out on his own like that, but a part of him luxuriated in the skin-tingling anticipation of what punishments his clever lover would concoct during his absence, or what favors Harry would be expected to dole out upon his return before Severus was satisfied.  
  
       He hoisted his feather-light school bag higher on his shoulder, constantly having to reassure himself that it was still there now that he couldn’t feel its weight. The corridors were eerily vacant, most of the older students off at Hogsmeade while the younger students were holed away in their respective dormitories enjoying a brief respite from homework and classes. All the banners in the school, all hints of color, had been magically replaced with the somber black of mourning, and Harry shivered at the funereal atmosphere, especially since it was all for Severus.   
  
       “Snape is dead.” Harry tried out the sentence, preparing himself for the inevitable discussions with the other Gryffindors once he got to the common room, but just saying those words caused his throat to close up. He shook himself and sucked in a deep breath, forcing all emotion out of his voice as he tried again, “So Snape’s dead, eh? Someone finally did the greasy git in …”  
  
       “How unexpectedly cruel of you, Potter, to speak ill of the dead.”  
  
       Harry froze. That cool, cultured voice could only belong to one person. He slowly turned around, self-consciously brushing his dark hair down over the scar on his forehead before meeting the icy gaze of Lucius Malfoy. He stood only a few feet away, apparently on his way down to the dungeons, perhaps to fetch Draco’s things.  
  
       Lucius’s elegant composure faltered for a moment as he drank in the sight of Harry, his eyes narrowing to slits of stormy gray that gleamed with suspicion and … lust?  
  
       _You’re imagining things, Harry_ , he told himself firmly, more frightened by the idea of Lucius being even slightly attracted to him than by the actual presence of the wizard himself.   
  
       “I must say, Potter,” Lucius glided forward, his every moment measured but graceful as he closed the distance between them, “I had no idea you had grown into such a fetching specimen. Though they do say half-bloods have an attraction all their own – entertaining, in their own special way.”  
  
       Harry’s grip tightened on the strap of his school bag. Here he was, standing face to face with the wizard who had killed Andrew and Callie, who was responsible for Melony’s death, and who had left Severus to die as well, but Harry could do nothing. He was too proud to just walk away and let Lucius think he was a coward who didn’t have the courage to face him, but neither could he curse him into oblivion the way he ached to do. His senses were on fire, every nerve in his body alive to the possibility that he could kill Lucius – right here, right now – and not only would he have his revenge, but he would be assured that Aiya was safe and free of the curse placed on her all those years ago. The shadows, responding to the swell of magic and darkness in their master, trembled in every corner of the long corridor, some of them slinking closer to Harry, others pooling at the feet of Lucius as if preparing to swallow him whole at Harry’s command.  
  
       [I know it’s tempting, Harry, but this isn’t the time or place.] Julian’s voice drifted into Harry’s thoughts like a familiar melody, steadying him, and he felt Julian's presence settle into his shadow, a new reserve of strength for him to draw on.   
  
       “Excuse me, I have somewhere to be,” Harry said stiffly, trying to exude only a mild loathing for the man in front of him instead of the deep-rooted hatred that had developed in the past seventy-two hours. He tried to walk past him only to have Lucius block his escape with his walking stick.  
  
       “I see now why Severus might have coveted you. Imagine my surprise when I read about your recent inheritance. You must have captivated him completely, Potter, for him to entrust his precious books to you. The ramshackle house, the paltry savings – these meant little to Severus – but the _books_. Those were his treasure. He paid very dearly for a few of those dusty tomes.” The malicious smile that curved Lucius’s lips made Harry think that Lucius had been personally involved in the transactions of which he spoke.  
  
       _It’s been in the Daily Prophet already?_ Harry didn’t like the idea that the whole school would soon know that Severus had made Harry his heir – it would mean twice as many questions from his classmates and increased scrutiny from Voldemort. Still, it did give him a certain satisfaction that, at last, Voldemort would realize just how little control he’d really had over Severus Snape.  
  
       It was imperative that Harry remain staunchly anti-Snape in the face of all this publicity. If Lucius connected Harry to Severus, then he might also connect Harry to the Mori. He glared at Lucius, trying his best to put forward an arrogant, cocky air as he responded harshly, “Look, the man hated my father and wasn’t too fond of me, either. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you how much he disliked me – I’d say ninety percent of the points I’ve lost were points he took away simply because I exist. Maybe this whole ‘inheritance’ thing was a ploy to make me feel guilty now that he’s dead, but guess what? I don’t feel a thing.”  
  
       [Bravo, Harry. You’re a better actor than I thought you’d be.] Julian, in his role of silent audience to the confrontation, cheerfully applauded Harry’s bratty response.   
  
       Lucius, too, seemed to take Harry’s performance at face value, though there was an added touch of admiration to his voice when he said mockingly, “Oh yes, Potter, I can see you’re quite choked up over the death of your teacher.”  
  
       “Morality lessons from a Death Eater?” Harry scoffed at the way Lucius tensed, his jaw tightening as he seemed to rally a protest, but Harry cut him off before he could speak. “Yes, a _Death Eater_. We were both there when Cedric died, so don’t waste my time with denials.”   
  
       “I am _much worse_ than a Death Eater,” Lucius hissed, shoving Harry back against the wall straight into a gathering of shadows that threatened to open up as a threshold in response to Harry’s survival instincts, but Harry held back, simply allowing Lucius to invade his personal space for the time being. He doubted Lucius would risk anything within the halls of Hogwarts. He could tell Julian was nearing his own breaking point, wanting to reveal himself and tear out the throat of the wizard who dared to threaten a fellow Mori, but Harry persuaded him to remain hidden.  
  
       “There _is_ something different about you this year, Potter.” Lucius caught Harry’s chin in his grip and turned his face this way and that, examining him in a manner similar to how he’d examined Callie. Thankfully, Harry’s glamours were firmly in place and he’d managed to sustain his dimming. “I’m not quite sure what to make of it – if I didn’t know your mother to have been a filthy mudblood, I’d say you were far beyond what one might expect of a wizard of your age. Yes … yes, you do have an aura about you … in fact, you positively reek of power … could it be a result of your connection to the Dark Lord?”  
  
       Harry steeled himself against the onslaught of instinctive urges that Lucius’s closeness inspired in him. The sudden brush of Lucius’s fingers over his cheek stirred a feeling of disgust in the pit of the his stomach, and a tremor of fear – not his own, but the baby’s – washed over him and brought out the protective parent inside him. He jerked away from Lucius's hand, drawing out his wand and pointing it at him in unmistakable challenge.  
  
       “Touch me again and I’ll kill you,” he snarled.  
  
       [Easy, Harry,] Julian whispered into his mind, his voice low and soothing. [You don’t want to lose your dimming.]   
  
       Lucius backed away a few steps, holding up his hands palms-out in a gesture of innocence, but the slow smile that spread over his lips told a different story. “Be careful, Potter. Death threats are taken very seriously by the Ministry. It would pain me to see you locked away in Azkaban for a poor choice of words.”  
  
       “Really? Because I’d love to see _you_ locked up in Azkaban.”   
  
       Harry started to walk away again, and this time Lucius let him go, though not without ensuring he had the last word when it came to their conversation.  
  
       “Keep a watchful eye on your little mudblood friend. She’s too nosy for her own good.”   
  
       Harry whipped around, his eyes flaring a dangerous shade of acid green, but then Dumbledore was there – as suddenly as if he’d apparated, though Harry knew better – and though his voice never rose higher than his usual congenial tone, his eyes were uncommonly cold as he addressed Lucius.  
  
       “You were told to wait until an escort could be provided. It is unacceptable for any wizard unconnected to the school, even the parent of a student, to walk these halls without proper supervision. I see time has not improved your ability to take direction, Lucius. I shall accompany you myself.”  
  
       He then turned to Harry, his arctic glare softening as he said quietly, “On your way, Mr. Potter. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley are expecting you back by now,” and then he was leading Lucius off to the dungeons, starting up a one-sided conversation on the latest breakthroughs in the world of puff pastry.  
  
       [What do you think Lucius meant?] Julian asked as they continued their walk to the Gryffindors’ tower.   
  
       Harry curled his fingers into fists and didn’t answer, so riled up by the idea of Lucius hurting Hermione that twice he had to stop and ‘feed’ on the surrounding shadows to keep his dimming at a presentable level. He didn’t say anything more to Julian who graciously gave Harry his space, leaving time for Harry to contemplate Lucius’s last words all the way up to the tower.   
  
       _Nosy … nosy … what could he be talking about? Of course, Hermione is always sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong, but what has she done lately that even Lucius would take notice of? Maybe it’s about the Mori? But he shouldn’t have a clue that she’s researching the Mori … unless …_  
  
       Harry cursed loudly.  
  
       “My word! Such language!” The Fat Lady hid her face behind a lacy fan in exaggerated shock.  
  
       [I take it that’s not the password to get in,] Julian murmured teasingly.  
  
       “Bloody well should be,” Harry muttered darkly, then snapped out, “Mackled Malaclaw.”  
  
       The portrait opened and Harry stalked inside the common room, Julian tagging along in his shadow, but once inside he couldn’t help but notice the way conversation in the room had dropped to muffled whispers. Several of his fellow Gryffindors were openly staring at him, mostly out of sheer curiosity, but others watched him warily, distrust and suspicion evident in their eyes.  
  
       _Well, no need to wonder if they’ve read the papers or not_ , he thought bitterly. Ignoring the looks and the whispers, he headed straight for the far back corner of the room, a secluded spot where Hermione and Ron and Ginny sat huddled together around a copy of the Daily Prophet, their quiet conversation accompanied every now and then by the scritch-scratch of Hermione’s quill.  
  
       “Now you’re taking notes on a newspaper?” Harry asked incredulously.  
  
       “No, I’m writing a letter of protest,” she answered indignantly, pointing an accusing finger at the Daily Prophet as she added, “They hardly even mentioned the attack on Willowbrooke Lane, and when they did, they called Voldemort’s involvement an ‘unsubstantiated rumor.’ The Dark Mark floating in the sky overhead, and it’s a _rumor_? Do they think Muggles made that Mark? Some big Halloween prank? Their stupidity has reached a record high.”  
  
       Harry leaned over Ron’s shoulder to get a good look at the article in question, a quick skim confirming Hermione’s angry tirade. He read a portion –  
  
       _… no strong leads in the death of Andrew Lennox, a famous Muggle musician who retired from public performance more than five years ago. Muggle press has called Mr. Lennox ‘reclusive’ and ‘intensely private,’ being highly camera shy and refusing interviews of any kind since his retirement. Mr. Lennox’s wife and two children remain missing at the time of this article, but there is no reason to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is responsible for their disappearance, because, as an official of the Ministry was overheard saying, ‘What would He do with a family of silly Muggles?’ The appearance of the Dark Mark over the Lennox house is currently being attributed to a single rogue witch who, perhaps with the death of a relatively famous Muggle, is hoping to make a name for herself._  
  
       “Three guesses as to who they’re talking about,” he said with a scowl.  
  
       Harry’s ire was matched only by that of Hermione, who had underlined the words _silly Muggles_ twice in ink. “The article about Professor Snape’s murder is worse – they call Professor Graham ‘the worst threat to Muggles and wizards alike since Sirius Black,’ forgetting, I suppose, about Voldemort’s return.”  
  
       “He’s been lying low for so long, he’s fooled them into thinking they’re safe,” Harry said, scanning the article on Severus’s murder and cringing when he came across the part where ‘confidential sources’ confirmed that Harry had been named the sole heir in Severus’s will. Speculation over exactly why the Boy-Who-Lived had been singled out by his teacher ranged from the innocent explanation of a caring teacher wanting the best for his student (“No one who knew Snape will believe that,” Ron pointed out) to a far more sordid tale of seduction and the forbidden romance between a professor and his pupil (“Harry, why is your face so red?” asked Ginny), with another half-dozen explanations scattered over the spectrum in between those two extremes.  
  
       “They care more about whether Snape buggered Harry than about the fact that people have died.” Ron shoved the paper into Ginny’s hands with a look of disgust.  
  
       [I’m going to explore,] Julian whispered in Harry’s ear right before he felt Julian's presence fade from his shadow. Harry decided that it must be too hard for him to listen to talk about how the wizarding world was dismissing the attack on Willowbrooke Lane and didn’t press the issue, letting Julian go his own way for the moment as he returned to the topic at hand.  
  
       “How do they connect Sev – Snape’s death to the attack on the Lennox family?”   
  
       “His half-blood status,” Ginny said. “They really play up the fact that his dad was a Muggle.”  
  
       “That’s our Aiya, alright,” Harry said in a sarcastic whisper, “champion of the purebloods. Just forget the fact that her mum was Muggle-born and her dad is best known for giving wizards the kiss of death.”  
  
       “Ugh, yes, I read that part too,” Ron said, clutching at his stomach as he remembered the gruesome details of some of Rauko’s more infamous exploits in the wizarding world, all found in Hermione’s notes.  
  
       “What’s this? You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you.” Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her brother. “Do I get to be in on the secrets now or do I have to wait and read it in the Daily Prophet like everyone else?”  
  
       “I’ll tell you later,” Hermione said, never once looking up from her incendiary letter, “when there aren’t so many people around.”  
  
       Watching Hermione, Harry suddenly remembered why he’d been in such a rage when entering the common room, and he snatched the paper out of Ginny’s hands and started scanning the rest of the articles.  
  
       “Nice, Harry,” Ginny said with a petulant frown. “You could’ve just asked to see it.”  
  
       Ron scooted closer to Harry. “What’re you looking for?”   
  
       “Any mention of disappearances? Any new wizards gone missing?”  
  
       Hermione finally looked up from her piece of parchment, her eyes wide and startled as she softly answered, “No, nothing like that. Why?”  
  
       He gave them a brief summary of the conversation with Lucius, emphasizing the parting words Lucius had flung at him right before Dumbledore stepped in. He fixed his mossy-green gaze on Hermione. “You sent that letter to Culpepper, right?”  
  
       “Yes, yesterday afternoon, as soon as I’d finished it.” Hermione’s face grew pale, her brown eyes filling with tears as she whispered fearfully, “Oh, Harry, what if he’s dead? What if they killed him? How else would Lucius know about my letter unless he’d been there at his home?”  
  
       Harry couldn’t deny that things looked bleak for Culpepper, but the old researcher wasn’t really his main focus at the moment.   
  
       “It’s you I’m worried about,” he told her, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “If Lucius knows you’re asking about the Mori, then he might think you’re connected to them somehow. If he thinks you know too much – ”  
  
       “No way is that bastard going to hurt her!” Ron’s furious snarl brought all conversation in the common room to an instant stop, the awkward silence following his outburst causing Ron to blush a bright crimson and snap at the gawking Gryffindors, “Oh, sod off, the whole lot of you.”  
  
       Hermione laughed as she wiped her eyes. “My hero,” she crooned at Ron, leaning over to kiss him.  
  
       “If Lucius knows that Hermione knows about these Mori,” Ginny interrupted the moment, a thoughtful expression on her face, “then wouldn’t he assume that you know about them, too, Harry? But he threatened Hermione specifically. I wonder why?”  
  
       Ron dragged Hermione over to his lap, disregarding her squeal of protest. “Since when does a Malfoy need a reason to threaten a Muggle-born?”  
  
       Julian, who had returned to Harry’s shadow just in time to hear Ginny’s question, had a different theory.  
  
       [The Mori have strict rules about wizards, Harry. Remember I told you how it was once forbidden for a Mori to turn a wizard? Well, even after Lisette joined us, only Muggle-born or half-blood wizards were acceptable for turning - no one has ever turned a pureblood wizard, it’s just not done.] A momentary flicker of pain and apprehension accented Julian’s words, as well as a feeling of grim determination, but it was gone before Harry could analyze it. [This Malfoy character seems to know a bit about the Mori – perhaps he’s heard of the taboo and thinks that Hermione has been approached by the Mori, who would find her Muggle-born status an asset rather than a weakness. With all the secrecy among the Mori, he might believe she hasn't told anyone, not even her friends.]   
  
       “That could be it,” Harry said, much to the confusion of his friends, but he waved away their unspoken questions and pushed forward in the discussion, lowering his voice significantly. “Lucius was acting very strange. He noticed I look a little different, and if I didn’t know better I’d say he was chatting me up, so he might, in time, realize what I am. If that happens, I’m worried that he’ll go after you guys as well. He’s already got Hermione in his sights – I just don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me. I want you three to promise me right now that you won’t hesitate to go into hiding if he figures everything out.”  
  
       “So you’re a – ” Ginny nearly let the secret slip right there and then, but Ron clapped a hand over her mouth before any damage could be done.  
  
       “Looks like it runs in the family,” he mumbled, but he quickly sobered and nodded his agreement to Harry’s terms. “I’ll agree, but only if we all stick together. The way I figure it, you won’t be able to hide for long, not with Voldemort still out there. Sooner or later you’re going to have to face him, and we want to be there with you when it happens.”  
  
       Hermione nodded emphatically, and Ginny gave her muffled assent from behind Ron’s hand.  
  
       Harry knew that to refuse would be pointless – his friends would probably just follow him if he tried to leave them behind – so he smiled and tossed the Daily Prophet aside. “It’s a promise, then.”  
  
  


* * * * * *

  
  
  
       Harry shouldered his way past a group of Hufflepuffs just returning from a day at Hogsmeade, pretending not to hear the outbreak of excited murmurs as he passed by.   
  
       _Front page news, yet again_ , he thought tiredly as he half-jogged down the staircase that took him ever closer to his rooms in the dungeons. He’d spent most of the day showing Julian around Hogwarts, taking him to every room that Harry might have the misfortune of entering on any given day and answering all of Julian's questions about who Harry trusted explicitly and who should be considered a threat. Their only joint worry centered around those times when Harry would be outside in the sunshine, but they decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.  
  
       [My next Quidditch match isn’t until the beginning of January, so you won’t have to worry about shadowing me in the sunlight for long periods of time until then.]  
  
       [You’ll be playing?] Julian sounded surprised.  
  
       [Have you met my boyfriend?] Harry asked with a wry smile. [I’m sure Severus has already hidden my broom. But I’m the captain, so I’ll still need to be there, even if I’m not one of the active players.]  
  
       Harry rounded a corner and ran straight into Rhys Wynford, the auburn-haired Ravenclaw giving a grunt of surprise as he caught Harry by the shoulders and prevented him from falling backwards against the wall.  
  
       “Sorry, Potter. Didn’t see you there.” He snatched his hands away as soon as Harry regained his balance, shoving them into the pockets of his trousers as if he wasn’t convinced he could keep his hands to himself.  
  
       [ … ] Julian’s stunned silence was actually audible to Harry, lasting only a second or two but dramatically present in his mind.  
  
       “Uh, no worries,” Harry said, shrugging off Julian’s disturbing speechlessness. “What are you doing down in the dungeons?”  
  
       Rhys shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking up at Harry with cinnamon-brown eyes. “Looking for you, actually. I asked around, and people say they see you down here a lot lately.” He paused, then let loose a rushed explanation, “I thought you would understand better than anyone, you see, and I don’t really have anyone else to talk to. All my mates ever want to talk about are classes, Quidditch and girls. And then I thought, well, it seems like you knew him pretty well – why else would he name you in his will? – and maybe you’d want someone to talk to as well. It’s just ... my mum owled me. She’s really terrified right now, threatening to take me out of school and everything, because she doesn’t want me to end up like my …”  
  
       Rhys paused, a muscle in his cheek twitching as he struggled with his own personal demons, then he continued on in a much calmer, quiet tone of voice. “She doesn’t want me to get hurt. She never worries about Aleksei. He’s a pureblood. But I’m half Muggle, just like _him_.”  
  
       _Him?_ Harry squinted at Rhys, more than a little confused by the Ravenclaw’s rambling explanation, but a mental nudge from Julian had him connecting the dots. “Oh, you mean Sev – err, Professor Snape?”  
  
       Rhys raised a brow at Harry’s near-slip, his brown eyes taking on a calculated gleam, but then he was nodding his head and favoring Harry with a weak smile, his honest expression banishing whatever misgivings Harry had felt upon Rhys hearing his mistake. “Yes, Professor Snape. He never really paid much attention to me until this year, and then it was mostly to insult me, but I’d always thought he was just another Slytherin pureblood – that somehow he knew I was only half, and that’s why he hated me.”  
  
       _You couldn’t be farther from the truth_ , Harry thought guiltily, knowing it was Rhys’s amorous advances on Harry that had provoked Severus into bullying him during Potions class. His instincts told him to say a few comforting words, pat Rhys on the back, and get his arse out of there, but Harry’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to just mouth platitudes to a fellow half-blood who was obviously affected by the recent ‘killing’ of their professor.  
  
       Rhys accepted Harry’s silence as a sign to keep talking. “But to find out how similar we were … it made me regret all the bad things I ever thought about him. It’s hard, you know? Being a half-blood. I’m sure the Muggle-borns have it worse, but when one parent’s a Muggle and the other’s not ... sometimes I feel like I have to take sides. Sometimes … I’ll feel ashamed of my dad … and then I hate myself for it.”   
  
       Harry wondered if Severus had felt the same way growing up – it was an aspect of being a half-blood that Harry had never experienced, having grown up without knowing about the wizarding world. If he’d grown up around wizards and witches, would he have felt the same flashes of shame and embarrassment about his own mother? Wishing she were a pureblood instead of a Muggle-born? He didn’t want to think so, but it was impossible to know for certain. But then, his case was a little different. His mother had been a witch, and a powerful one at that, so even though he was still considered a half-blood he could at least claim that both of his parents were highly magical. For Rhys and Severus, it must have been hard to grow up as the child of a non-magical parent when so many in the wizarding world placed importance on blood purity.   
  
       “If I’d known that he was a half-blood too -- but I guess he wouldn’t advertise it, not with him being a Slytherin.” Rhys’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed to slits of dark brown, his tone altering drastically as he said coldly, “Didn’t save him though, did it? Someone killed him anyway.”  
  
       “Don’t believe everything you read in the Daily Prophet,” Harry said. “We don’t know for sure why Professor Snape was killed. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with his dad being a Muggle.”  
  
       Rhys didn’t look convinced. “Aleksei – he’s my half-brother – works at the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but he hears all sorts of things from the other departments. He says that the Aurors have been on high alert ever since that explosion outside of Hogsmeade. Most of the officials at the Ministry are clueless, but the higher-ups, the ones who really run the show, all think it’s You-Know-Who gearing up for another war.”  
  
       “It’s about time they took things seriously,” Harry snapped, though he wished it hadn’t taken his accidental remodeling of the Shrieking Shack to get the Ministry to open its eyes. Now if only they’d quit wasting time looking for Aiya and just focus on fighting Voldemort …  
  
       “You remind me of my brother.” Rhys stared at Harry with what could only be described as ardent admiration. “You’re really intense, just like him. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”  
  
       [You should get back to your rooms, Harry.] Julian emphasized his suggestion with a gentle push from Harry’s shadow.  
  
       “You alright?” Rhys asked when Harry appeared to trip forward a step.  
  
       “A little tired,” Harry admitted sheepishly. He edged away from Rhys, wondering if he should take an alternate route through the dungeons just in case Rhys followed him. Being the object of an innocent crush was one thing; having a determined stalker was another, and since he really didn’t know for sure which category Rhys fit into, he decided to be cautious. This was, after all, the boy who had tried to force himself on Harry after getting just one glimpse of his true appearance.  
  
       “Oh.” Disappointment darkened Rhys’s gaze but he accepted Harry’s excuse without much fuss. “I won’t keep you. Thanks for listening.”  
  
       “Don’t mention it. Anytime you need to talk, just let me know.” Another shove from Julian, and Harry realized the idiocy of his offer. _Severus is going to kill me_ , he thought ruefully as he walked away.  
  
       [Or kill the boy,] Julian added unhelpfully. [More likely the boy.] Another long pause, then Julian asked quietly, [Who was that?]  
  
       [Rhys Wynford, he’s a sixth year Ravenclaw. He … well, he fancies me a bit.] Harry sensed that Julian was inquiring after Rhys out of more than just curiosity, and he frowned in puzzlement. [Why so interested? Don’t tell me you’ve gone off Sirius already?]  
  
       This elicited a low chuckle from Julian and he immediately cheered up. [That will _never_ happen. No, that boy only reminded me of someone …]  
  
       His answer caught Harry’s interest. [Who?]  
  
       Julian deftly changed the subject. [Severus isn’t too fond of your little friend.]  
  
       [No, not really, but that’s because - ] Harry paused, his brows knitting together in a puzzled frown. [How did you know that?]  
  
       [It’s driving him crazy to have you running loose all over the castle while he’s stuck in those rooms unable to keep an eye on you. He reached out to you for reassurance first, but your brain was locked up tight, so he came knocking on mine. I don’t barricade my mind unless I’m facing an enemy. Otherwise, it just seems like a waste of energy.]  
  
       Harry couldn’t argue with that. He had never felt any barriers in Julian’s mind, even when first meeting him. As for his own barriers, he’d actually forgotten they were raised – they seemed to be getting stronger over time, the proof of which lay in the fact that he was able to keep Severus out of his head without even trying.   
  
       [He was interrogating me the whole time you and that Rhys fellow were talking. Why do you think I was so eager to get you out of there?]   
  
       Harry chewed nervously at his lower lip. [And does he know about - ]  
  
       [Lucius? ‘Fraid so, Harry. If it makes you feel any better, he gave me the mental equivalent of a right hook when he realized I’d let that bastard get so close to you.] Julian’s low chuckle reverberated in Harry’s head. [You might want to play it meek and mild when we get back to the rooms. He’s going to be quite territorial for the next few hours. For a human with no Mori instincts driving him forward, it amazes me how fierce his love for you is …]  
  
       Harry had just lost himself in fantasies of Severus ‘marking his territory’ when Julian blindsided him with that four-letter-word. He gave a weak laugh. [Oh, did he mention that as well when he was invading your brain?]  
  
       Julian’s indulgent smile could be felt even though it couldn't be seen. [That? No, I can sense that much for myself.]  
  
       Harry blushed, so overcome by his feelings on the matter that he couldn’t engage in intelligent conversation for the remainder of their walk.  
  
  


* * * * * *

  
  
  
       When Harry and Julian finally stepped through the portrait hole into the sitting room they were greeted by a completely renovated suite of rooms fit for a large family, spacious but cozy, with new sofas and armchairs upholstered in vibrant colors and rich fabrics, while the once-barren walls were now decorated with paintings and pictures that Harry recognized as Aiya’s work, a touching reminder of his absent sister that couldn’t be attributed to even the most compassionate of house-elves.   
  
       “Someone’s been busy,” Julian murmured, wisps of shadow still clinging to his face and chest, the misty entities reluctant to release Julian from their embrace after clinging to him for most of the day.  
  
       There were new doors connected to the main living area, presumably leading to bedrooms for the two newest guests, and the lighting had been dimmed to a soft glow, dark enough to be comfortable for the morions but not so dark that the lone human in the room would have trouble seeing. Severus sat on one of the sofas with Dorian beside him, the child coloring quietly while Severus made elegant notations in a leather-bound journal concerning a new potion he was developing.  
  
       “Did you do all this?” Harry asked his lover, a look of wide-eyed disbelief on his face.  
  
       “One learns to make the most of one’s free time,” Severus stated dismissively, his inky gaze remaining fixed on the notes he was taking.   
  
       Harry sighed, tossing his school bag onto the sofa where it actually bounced three times before floating like a falling leaf to the floor. “I think you went a bit too far with whatever charm you put on my bag,” he said jokingly, but Severus didn’t reply, didn’t even _look_ at Harry.  
  
       Harry turned to Julian with pleading eyes and, true to form, Julian jumped into action.  
  
       “I’ve a mind to visit the house-elves in this place,” Julian said enthusiastically, and he bent down to address Dorian as he added, “Wouldn’t you like to see them, Dorian? Maybe they’ll have some biscuits and milk for us …”  
  
       Dorian’s eyes lit up and he held out his arms to his cousin, allowing Julian to swing him up onto his shoulders.   
  
       “Don’t wait up for us,” Julian said with a roguish grin, and then he and Dorian disappeared into a shadowy corner, leaving Severus and Harry alone in the sitting room. The tension crackled between them, and belatedly Harry dropped the barriers in his mind, surprised to find that Severus’s own thoughts were just as open to Harry as they’d been when he first woke up from his fever at Grimmauld Place.  
  
       “Severus, I – ”  
  
       “Did you have a nice chat with Wynford?” Severus appeared to be asking a casual question but his voice was winter itself, so cold and cutting that Harry swore he could feel its sting on his skin.  
  
       “He did most of the talking.” Harry came around the end of the sofa and sat down next to Severus, drawn to his side by some unexplainable instinct. He blamed it on his pregnancy, since it was only in the last few weeks that his instincts had grown so increasingly hard to ignore. “He was upset about your ‘murder’. He just wanted to talk about it with someone who’d understand … a half-blood, like him.”  
  
       “Ahh, so that was his excuse.” Severus very deliberately closed his book, placed it neatly on the coffee table along with his quill, then turned to look at Harry for the first time, his eyes endlessly dark, like the pitch black of a moonless night. He brushed Harry’s hair away from his forehead, tracing Harry’s scar with his thumb. “The bond between half-bloods …”  
  
       Harry shuddered, that cool touch stirring an answering heat inside his body.  
  
       “Don’t you think I know what he really wants when he seeks you out like that?” Severus bent his head, gently kissing his way along the pale column of Harry’s throat, finding a particularly sensitive spot and sucking, causing Harry to moan softly. He pulled away to gaze in smug satisfaction at the reddened mark his lips had left behind. His voice, barely above a whisper, no longer cut at Harry with its coldness but rather stroked over his skin like thick, warm velvet, “I know _exactly_ what he wants, because you inspire the same feelings in me – the same desire, the same obsessive need to touch you, to be near you – but I’m not willing to give you up to anyone else.”  
  
       He pushed Harry down onto the sofa so that he was sprawled on his back, then began to methodically strip Harry of his clothing. “Not to Wynford,” here, the sound of Harry’s shirt ripping open, “not to Lucius,” the sudden rasp of his trousers being unzipped, “not to _anyone_ ,” and Severus punctuated his words with a forceful kiss, laying thorough claim to Harry's mouth.  
  
       _Gods, he’s sexy when he’s like this_ , Harry couldn’t help but think, not recollecting the openness of his own mind until Severus chuckled against his lips, drawing back just far enough to stare down at Harry hungrily.  
  
       “Yes, you like a bit of roughness, don’t you.” He nipped at Harry’s lower lip, then again, alternately biting and sucking at his lips until they were sensitive and swollen, the mingling of pain and pleasure causing Harry’s cock to stiffen.  
  
       “We shouldn’t do this – you’re still recovering,” Harry protested, even as his hips arched against the hand that Severus had just shoved down his pants. "I don't want you to get hurt."  
  
       “I like a bit of roughness, too,” Severus said slyly, giving Harry’s cock a harsh squeeze before concentrating on getting Harry naked as soon as possible.  
  
       After having his trousers yanked off and losing his boxers, Harry somehow managed to slip away from his persistent lover, clad only in his torn white shirt and his socks as he backed away from the sofa in the direction of the bedroom. “I can see you're feeling better, but Lisette said you shouldn’t strain yourself.”  
  
       “Then stay still so I can fuck you,” Severus snapped, clearly not in one of his gentler moods as he stalked Harry into the bedroom. He slammed the door behind them, effectively cutting off at least one of Harry’s escape routes, and a silent spell sealed the bathroom door as well, leaving Harry nowhere to turn but the silk-covered bed that dominated the room.   
  
       “There are all sorts of thresholds I could open up in this room,” Harry pointed out, just to prove he could escape Severus’s intentions if he wanted to, but he was secretly thrilled by the predatory gleam in Severus's dark eyes. Julian had warned him to act ‘meek and mild,’ but Harry knew Severus savored all the defiance and rebellion Harry exhibited during their lovemaking, while Harry loved all of Severus’s attempts to tame him, so instead of adopting a passive attitude he decided to let his true personality prevail.   
  
       “On the bed, Potter,” Severus growled, unfastening his own trousers, “and be quick about it.”  
  
       “Oh, and are _you_ going to be quick about it?” Harry asked impishly as he reclined on the midnight blue bed sheets, having tugged off his socks but still wearing the torn shirt, his legs splayed wide as he reached down to stroke his cock. “Or am I going to witness this famous stamina you were bragging about back at Grimmauld Place?”  
  
       “You’ll be lucky if you can walk tomorrow,” Severus promised darkly as he impatiently unbuttoned his shirt then shrugged out of it altogether, revealing a pale, lean chest criss-crossed with angry red scars.  
  
       Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his fingers stalling in their eager strokes as he was torn between horror from the reminder of how close he had come to losing Severus, and lust from the way those scars, coupled with Severus's piercing gaze and wicked smile, only served to intensify the aura of danger and animalistic aggression that had marked Severus’s behavior from the moment he and Harry had been left alone together. He was panting heavily now, and he could feel the electric surge of dark energy building in his body, just waiting for Severus’s touch to set it free.   
  
       “It was agony to be without you today,” Severus said huskily, still partially clad in the trousers that were now slung low on his slim hips. He began a slow cat-like climb over the bed, trapping Harry against the mattress with his body while bending to whisper into his ear, “How are you going to make it up to me?”  
  
       Harry had completely forgotten about his rash promise from earlier in the day, but he recovered from his surprise quickly, his eyes glowing a startling shade of fevered aquamarine as he moved his hands to Severus’s hips and tugged at his trousers. “You’re a bit overdressed for what I had in mind.”  
  
       Severus chuckled and rolled them so that he was on his back with Harry straddling his thighs. “You should remedy that, then.”  
  
       Harry bunched his hands in the fabric of both trousers and boxers and eased them down over Severus’s erection, making short work of them before tossing them to the side. He placed both hands on either side of Severus’s waist as he leaned down to swipe his tongue over the glistening tip of his lover’s swollen cock, finding a certain satisfaction in the way Severus’s hips twitched uncontrollably in response. He licked his way up and down the long shaft with soft, teasing flicks of his tongue, waiting until Severus was grunting and growling with frustrated desire before he finally took his cock into his mouth, sucking long and hard while his right hand reached down to fondle his balls.  
  
       “Such a good little cocksucker,” Severus moaned, threading his fingers into Harry’s silky hair.   
  
       [I had a brilliant teacher,] was Harry’s cheeky response as he rocked his hips, rubbing his own neglected cock against Severus’s thigh, desperate for some friction.  
  
       Severus didn’t leave him in such a dominating position for long, his need to possess Harry outweighing his enjoyment of having Harry suckle so greedily on his cock. In no time, he had him on his back again and was busy licking and tonguing Harry's tight hole, relishing every throaty cry he forced from Harry’s lips.  
  
       [I should tie you down to this bed and never let you leave,] his voice was a hoarse whisper in Harry’s mind as he replaced his tongue with his fingers, preparing Harry far more gently than he ever had before – even at his most possessive, Severus had kept a part of himself restrained, as if he feared that to lose control might lead him to harm Harry or their unborn child.  
  
       Harry sensed that hard-fought restraint and loved Severus all the more for it. [It would be hard to kill Voldemort while strapped down to this mattress,] Harry’s joking reply came between moans of appreciation for Severus’s talented fingers.  
  
       For once, Severus didn’t wince at the mention of his one-time leader’s name. In fact, he barely seemed to register it at all as he began kissing his way back up Harry's body, his fingers still pumping rhythmically into Harry’s tender flesh in anticipation of filling that quivering hole with something much larger.   
  
       [Say it,] he murmured, reclaiming Harry’s lips in a passionate kiss as he settled himself between his thighs.   
  
       Harry smiled into that kiss, reaching up to wrap his arms around Severus’s neck as he silently replied, [I’m yours.]  
  
       Severus pulled his fingers away only to press the tip of his cock against that slick entrance, his voice nothing more than a growl as he demanded Harry’s complete surrender, [ _Again_.]  
  
       [Yours, only yours,] Harry reassured him, aroused by the non-stop flow of Severus’s heated thoughts into his own mind, a steady stream of lust and need and hunger, and some elusive emotion Harry couldn’t define but recognized somewhere deep in his soul. He suddenly felt the strangest urge to cry and, horrified, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pleaded for the one thing that could distract him, [Take me … take all of me …]  
  
       And then Severus was thrusting into him, slowly at first to ease the pain and discomfort, then with increasing ferocity as he lost himself in the exquisite ecstasy of burying himself inside the warm, welcoming flesh of his lover, swallowing all of Harry’s moans as he continued to plunder his mouth in a harsh, unyielding kiss.  
  
       _Mine … mine … mine …_ the word echoed again and again in Harry’s mind in synch with every inward slide of Severus’s cock into Harry’s arse, as if further reminding him of who he belonged to – of who had claimed him, absolutely and irrevocably.  
  
       And Severus kept his word, bringing Harry again and again to the brink of orgasm but never letting him fall, fucking him senseless one minute only to stop abruptly and devote himself to licking and sucking and biting his skin, marking Harry so thoroughly that it would take heavy glamours to cover up the evidence of their lovemaking. Whatever possessive instinct had taken hold of Severus drove him to claim Harry in every possible way, pulling out of him at one point only to force him over onto his hands and knees so he could take him from behind, groaning his delight at how the new angle allowed him to sink even deeper into the writhing body beneath him.  
  
       Finally, after what felt like hours of delicious torment, Severus released his white-knuckled grip on self-control and pistoned in and out of Harry at a maddening pace, freeing Harry’s lips from a kiss just in time to hear Harry scream his name and explode into a mind-blowing climax, that pert arse grinding hard against Severus’s groin as Harry rode out wave after wave of pleasure, nearly sobbing his relief at finding his release at last. Severus followed soon after, his hips jerking erratically as he came.  
  
       He collapsed onto his side, pulling Harry back against his chest as he struggled to catch his breath, placing one hand protectively over Harry's stomach while the other toyed with his sweat-dampened hair.   
  
       “Not bad for an invalid,” Harry gasped out, still shaken by the intensity of his release. He'd have to commend Lisette on the potency of her healing potions.  
  
       “So glad you enjoyed it,” Severus drawled mockingly, hiding his smile against Harry’s shoulder as he kissed his dewy skin, addicted to the taste of him.   
  
       “I think ‘enjoyed’ is an understatement,” Harry clarified with a chuckle, then snuggled into Severus’s embrace, basking in the warmth and security he felt whenever Severus held him like this.   
  
       [You fit perfectly in my arms,] Severus said, though there was a touch of melancholy in his rich, baritone voice that concerned Harry.  
  
       [What is it? What’s wrong?]   
  
       There was a tense pause, then –  
  
       [I don’t trust this happiness,] came Severus’s quiet reply, and along with it a glimpse of the fear and doubt that he carried in his heart. [Holding you, touching you … I don’t deserve any of it. I’ve done horrible things in my life, Harry. I spend every day asking myself … is this the day he realizes what a mistake he’s made? Is this the day he leaves me?]  
  
       [Never.] Harry used what strength remained in his pleasure-limp limbs to turn and face him, cupping Severus's face in his hands as he firmly repeated himself. [I will never leave you. I’m yours. Always.]   
  
       Severus's eyes smoldered as he gazed at Harry’s face, his smile fragile but his voice strong and determined as he drew Harry further into the circle of his arms.  
  
       [Mine. Always.]  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **ai'toror** \- little brother


	40. Across The Distance

 

       The first package arrived five days after Harry and the others had settled back into Hogwarts. Hedwig dropped it into Harry’s lap during the morning mail, hooting happily as she delivered the unexpected gift. It was a small box wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with green twine, bearing no return address or other identifying marks, only Harry’s own name scrawled in ink and a strange runic symbol on the underside of the package where the paper had been sealed shut.  
  
       Without even a second glance, Harry handed off the package to Hermione for inspection.   
  
       Hermione tore herself away from the book she was reading (an old medical manual Lisette had given her that detailed Mori healthcare and was spelled to turn blank should anyone outside their circle attempt to read it) and peered at the package, her brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
       “Maybe Wynford sent it,” Ron joked, gesturing over at the Ravenclaw table where Rhys sat with his quidditch teammates, the sixth year shooting surreptitious glances over at Harry when he thought Harry wasn’t looking. “Could be an engagement ring.”  
  
       “A cursed one, no doubt,” Hermione said sharply, earning surprised looks from both Harry and Ron. It took her a moment to realize they were staring at her oddly, and when she did it was only to add, “He’s obviously the one who slipped that _Amortentia_ into Harry’s glass. Lavender, who has a rather unfortunate crush on him, prattles on and on about him these days. She told me last night that his half-brother was something of a genius at Durmstrang, and he taught Rhys everything he knows about potion-making – including the hard stuff, like _Amortentia_. Then she made a snide comment about how wonderful it was that Professor Snape wasn’t around to torment her ‘poor Rhys’ in class anymore. I, in turn, told her Rhys might like her better if she had a penis – ”  
  
       “Hermione!” Ron looked around to see if anyone else had overheard her blunt comment.  
  
       “ – which didn’t seem to sit well with her, but I had more important things to worry about.” Hermione paused to take a deep, cleansing breath, then turned her attention back to the package, examining it in great detail as she continued talking. “You should just avoid him altogether, Harry. He’s far too clever and far too interested in you.”  
  
       [Sound advice,] Julian mumbled from the shelter of Harry’s shadow.  
  
       Harry sighed, then sipped at his water (even pumpkin juice made him queasy this early in the morning) while waiting for Hermione’s report on the safety of whatever it was that he’d received. His instincts told him to be cautious around Rhys, it was true, but he didn’t have that instant physical reaction to Rhys’s presence as he’d experienced with Lucius – that stomach-turning, skin-crawling feeling that told him, without a doubt, that he was dealing with someone truly out to harm him in some way.  
  
       “No jinxes, no curses,” Hermione said finally, placing the package on Harry’s empty plate. “Only a thief-repelling charm. Whoever sent that to you doesn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.”  
  
       “What’s the rune mean?” Ron asked, his blue eyes bright with curiosity now that he’d recovered from Hermione’s previous vulgar outburst.  
  
       “I don’t recognize it.” Hermione’s voice was stiff with embarrassment. “I’ve never seen that symbol before …”  
  
       Harry picked up the package and turned it over in his palm, giving it a good look now that he knew it was harmless. His eyes widened in recognition of the green-inked symbol. “No, but _I_ have. That rune is called _vara_. It means ‘protection.’ I have it tattooed on the back of my left hand. It’s one of the two runes that all Mori are given to help focus their power. Aiya told me they use it to mark safehouses, too.”  
  
       A profound silence followed Harry’s explanation as all four of them realized the significance of that rune. With trembling fingers, Harry peeled away the brown paper to reveal a simple black box. When he lifted the lid, he discovered a pendant strung on a black cord. The stone itself was deep blue and somewhat transparent, and when Harry picked it up and turned it this way and that, the stone shimmered with a mysterious light.  
  
       “That’s a moonstone,” Hermione identified the gem with a return of her usual confidence.  
  
       Ron leaned over for a better look, but something else caught his eye.  
  
       “There’s a note,” he pointed out, gesturing at the small scrap of paper that had been crammed into the bottom of the box.  
  
       Harry pried out the piece of parchment and unfolded it. The message it contained was simple and brief:  
  
  
       _Little Brother,  
  
       Wear this. Stay safe. I love you._  
  
  
       Just three short sentences, but they meant the world to Harry. He missed his sister terribly and worried about her constantly, so he cherished this attempt by Aiya to reach out to him across the distance that separated them.  
  
       “At least we know she’s safe,” Hermione volunteered after a somber silence.  
  
       Harry managed a weak smile at his friends, well aware that they were eyeing him with a growing anxiety. He slipped the moonstone pendant over his head and tucked it under his robes. The instant he felt its weight against his chest a shiver danced up his spine, and he sensed the emergence of another presence in his mind – the baby, waking from its slumber. Sensations of love and security and pure joy flowed through Harry, and he found himself bursting into loud peals of laughter, clutching his sides as he rode out the wave of belly-laughs the baby’s emotions had incited in him.  
  
       “Ha, ha, yeah, that’s a good one, Hermione,” Ron joined in on Harry’s spontaneous laughter to cover for him, though it didn’t stop them from becoming the center of attention as students at every table looked up from their breakfast with curious stares.  
  
       Harry wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robes, taking deep breaths as he recovered from his laughing fit. _Whew … that was intense_ , he thought, his hand a bit shaky as he reached for his glass of water.  
  
       [The moonstone will sharpen your senses,] Julian informed him, a hint of amusement in his voice. [The Mori also wear it for good health and protection. As a race, we are particularly attuned to its magical properties.]  
  
       Even though they were far apart, Aiya seemed determined to continue in her role as big sister to Harry, ensuring he and his child would be protected despite her absence.  
  
       “Come on,” he said finally, gathering his things and tucking the empty box into his schoolbag. “Classes are about to start.”  
  
       Ron and Hermione exchanged a look but they quietly followed Harry’s example, and the three of them (plus one unseen morion) exited the Great Hall together.  
  


 

* * * * * * *

  
  
  
       More packages came in the weeks to follow, sometimes filled with rare herbs, sometimes with sweets and cheap trinkets meant solely to amuse – Aiya even sent a very beautiful and impossibly soft baby blanket, cleverly shrunk to the size of a handkerchief, though the color of the blanket (dark green bordered by silver) drew Ron’s disdain and Harry’s suspicion. Did his sister know something about this baby that Harry didn’t?  
  
       If she did, Aiya was keeping her secrets. The notes accompanying the packages were often concise and uninformative, merely relaying Aiya's hopes for Harry’s health and reassuring him of her own well-being. Draco’s name never came up, except for the time that Aiya sent Harry a book of Muggle poetry; inside the cover, scrawled in the same green ink that had addressed the first package sent to Harry, were the words, ‘ _I won’t let anything happen to her_.’ Harry doubted Aiya knew about the covert message Draco had sent him, but it raised him in Harry's esteem, if only slightly, since Draco hadn’t been obligated to make any promises of that sort to Harry. That his one-time rival had taken the initiative to reach out to Harry and ease his fears spoke volumes of Draco’s reformed character.  
  
       Harry only wished he could reply to Aiya, but he knew the importance of keeping her location a secret, even from himself. Not a day would go by without Rauko mentally checking on him, performing a quick sweep of Harry’s mind before launching into an update on the search for Aiya or questioning Harry about his pregnancy. Harry endured these ‘visits’ with patience born of the knowledge that any father whose child had disappeared so suddenly would react in much the same way – Harry’s own protective instincts towards his unborn child were frightening in their intensity – and so he tolerated Rauko's meddling and allowed him to distract himself as much as he wanted with the prospect of becoming a grandfather.  
  
       One thing he found he could not tolerate, however, were his classes. He simply couldn’t concentrate on them. He aced his homework (having a live-in tutor helped) but all of his in-class work was sub-par. Most of his professors, especially McGonagall, turned a blind eye to his descent into mediocrity, but the new professors – both Ministry-appointed – seemed disappointed to find that the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ had grown up to be the ‘Boy-Who-Slept-Through-Lectures.’  
  
       The new DADA professor, a retired Auror named Esmond Grimshaw, was gray-haired and sharp-eyed, and his gruff exterior did _not_ hide a heart of gold – rather, he seemed to take particular pleasure from demeaning the very students who tried to ingratiate themselves to him, and he became known as ‘the new Snape’ amongst most of the student body for his cutting remarks and mocking sneers. Harry, offended on Severus’s behalf by the comparison, took an instant dislike to Grimshaw and didn’t bother hiding it. Yet, despite the animosity, Harry didn’t feel threatened by the grouchy ex-Auror, just annoyed.  
  
       The new Potions professor, however, triggered an instinctual reaction in him.  
  
       Severus’s replacement turned out to be a tall, thin man with cropped blond hair and glacial blue eyes, presumably in his late thirties, whose hazy background garnered much speculation from his students. Xander Lyr dazzled the young witches with his old-world, aristocratic good looks and his faint Russian accent, and he impressed the male students with his devil-may-care attitude towards traditional potion-making theories, encouraging his students to experiment (“within the bounds of safety,” he would say with a slight smile) if they felt they could develop a better result than if they stuck to the time-tested way of doing things. Some of the professors considered him to be very reckless (Severus would bitterly agree, muttering about the ‘precise art’ of potion-making), and the lack of information about where he came from or what he did before he came to Hogwarts was troubling to many of them, but all of the students were enamored with the dashing new Potions professor and couldn’t stop gushing over this welcome addition to the teaching staff.  
  
       All of the students … except Harry.  
  
       “He’s … he’s _cold_ ,” Harry would tell Severus after his first encounter with the mysterious Professor Lyr. “Not his personality, but his aura – it’s like he’s made of ice. He never shows any range of emotion – never yells, never laughs – but he’s charming and polite and everyone else seems to love him, even Ron and Hermione.”  
  
       Julian agreed with Harry’s assessment of the new teacher. “I don’t trust him. He’s hiding something.”  
  
       “Keep an eye on him, then,” Severus advised them both, then he brushed his knuckles over Harry’s cheek as he added, “but be careful. As a Ministry-appointed teacher, he may have ties to Lucius.”  
  
       Afterwards, Harry realized Severus must have had further instructions for Julian regarding Harry’s interaction with Professor Lyr, as his ‘shadow’ always seemed more alert and aware during Potions class than at any other time of the day. It was not uncommon for Harry to develop a headache during his final class of the day due to the tense presence of Julian lurking in the back of his mind, a far cry from Julian's typical happy-go-lucky attitude. Only during that brief but stressful period of time did Harry witness a return of the edgy, intimidating side of Julian’s personality, the one he’d witnessed the night of Callie’s death, and it unsettled Harry that Julian was taking the threat of Professor Lyr so seriously, though he couldn’t decide if the caution was warranted or if Julian was simply acting according to Severus’s wishes.  
  
       Whatever the reason, it made Harry dread Potions classes, for his own sake as well as Julian’s, so it was with palpable relief that, almost three weeks after first returning to Hogwarts, he indulged in the rare pleasure of skipping class and returning to his rooms early. A letter had arrived that morning from Sirius asking that Harry be in his rooms that afternoon for a ‘fireside chat.’ Bewildered by the request but more than happy to grant it, Harry relayed his intentions of returning ‘home’ early to Julian and insisted that he take some time for himself after nearly a month of serving as Harry’s constant bodyguard. Julian accepted reluctantly, feigning interest in a walk around the castle, and slipped away into the void as soon as Harry was safely back in his rooms.  
  
       _One down, two to go_ , he thought just as Dorian came scampering out of Severus’s workroom with gobs of sticky green goo on his beaming face and tiny hands, as well as all over the front of his shirt. He launched into Harry’s arms with a wordless hug of welcome, causing Harry to laugh and swing the child around playfully, not caring that he was being covered in the same green muck.  
  
       “It looks like you’ve been busy today,” he said with a grin as Severus emerged from the workroom.  
  
       “Dorian decided to ‘help’ me with the potion I was working on.” Severus began methodically ridding his robes of the green slime before using the same cleaning charms on his hair and skin.  
  
       “I helped Sev’rus,” Dorian confirmed with a proud smile.  
  
       “I can see that.” Harry smiled back, then glanced at Severus in concern. [It’s not toxic, is it?]  
  
       [Perfectly safe,] Severus reassured him. He walked over and took Dorian from Harry’s arms, kissing Harry’s cheek as he did so. “Why are you back so early?” He frowned, taking a closer look at Harry’s face, inspecting him carefully. “You aren’t ill, are you?”  
  
       “No, nothing like that. I have an appointment with the fireplace. Sirius wants to have a chat.” He gave his lover a meaningful look.  
  
       Severus frowned but didn’t make any of the usual spiteful comments he reserved just for Sirius. Instead, he turned and walked towards Dorian's bedroom, calling back over his shoulder, “I’ll get him changed, then. Take your time.”  
  
       [Thanks.] Harry pressed the grateful thought into Severus’s mind.  
  
       [You can ‘thank’ me later,] Severus replied, giving Harry one last heated look before he closed the bedroom door behind him.  
  
       _The man is incorrigible_ , Harry decided with a lopsided grin. He often worried that being holed up all day in their rooms with only a four-year-old for company would grow oppressive for Severus, but he appeared to be embracing his new role as Dorian’s caregiver with the same dedication he'd shown in all other aspects of his life.  
  
       Harry stood idly by the fireplace, waiting for Sirius to appear. Minutes ticked by and still no sign of his godfather, so Harry flopped down on the sofa and opened up his schoolbag, retrieving his books so he could start his homework while waiting. Sandwiched between his Charms book and the binder full of Hermione’s notes was the thick black envelope that contained Harry’s ‘inheritance’ from Severus. He still hadn’t opened it.  
  
       _Opening it feels … wrong_. He turned the envelope over in his hands, staring blankly at the wax seal on the back. He hadn’t brought up the subject to Severus since that day at Grimmauld Place, and Severus had never told Harry one way or the other if he minded Harry opening it, but it still felt like an intrusion of Severus’s privacy. _Though I’m dying to know why he changed his will after my fourth year_ …  
  
       “ _Pssst, Harry_!”  
  
       He looked up from the black envelope to see Sirius’s face peeking out of the fire. He stuffed the envelope back into his bag and hurried over to the hearth, crouching in front of it as he teasingly chastised Sirius. “You’re late.”  
  
       Sirius ignored the accusation, glancing around nervously before asking Harry, “Are you … alone?”  
  
       “For the first time in three weeks,” Harry said with a resigned smile. “Though, technically, I’m not alone now that you’re here.”  
  
       Sirius didn’t look convinced. “You’re sure? _He’s_ not here, is he?”  
  
       _’He’ who_? Harry wanted to ask, but the lack of animosity in Sirius’s tone suggested that it was not Severus he was referring to, which really only left …  
  
       “Julian? No, I gave him the afternoon off,” Harry joked, but the laughter died in his throat when he saw how harried and distracted Sirius had become. “What’s wrong? You look awful.”  
  
       Sirius responded with a weak laugh, that weary exhalation sending up a spray of sparks. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.” He fell silent for a moment, the soft crackle of the fire filling in the void while he considered his next words, then suddenly he pressed on in a strained, hushed tone of voice, “Tell me, has your ‘shadow’ been sleeping well lately?”  
  
       Harry wasn’t sure how to answer such a bizarre question. Why was Sirius so interested in Julian’s sleeping habits? He chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip, seriously contemplating how to answer. Had Julian been acting strangely? No, aside from tensing up during Potions class, Julian had remained his usual good-natured self. As for how he slept – well, Harry didn’t give Julian much thought at night; he was … _otherwise occupied_ during that period of time.  
  
       Though … there _had_ been that one time when Harry woke up to what he first thought was Dorian having a nightmare, only to discover that what he was hearing were the low, throaty cries of his ‘shadow’ in the midst of what must have been a very, _very_ good dream. Severus hadn’t heard anything, leaving Harry to assume that he was ‘overhearing’ Julian thanks to the lack of barriers in his mind. He blushed as he realized what this could mean – and why Sirius might be so rattled.  
  
       “He hasn’t said anything about it,” Harry said slowly, watching Sirius closely. “Is that why you wanted to talk? To ask me about Julian?”  
  
       “No, no,” Sirius denied the notion so fervently that Harry nearly laughed. “I just … just missed talking to you, is all. How is the … the baby?”  
  
       _Wow, he must really want to change the subject_ , Harry thought with a fond smile. Sirius hadn’t mentioned Harry’s unusual state since that first night of learning Harry was pregnant, so for him to voluntarily address the subject was a big deal. “The baby is fine. Lisette is coming to Hogwarts tomorrow to give me my first check-up.”  
  
       “Ah, I see.” Sirius lapsed into another uneasy silence, then asked quietly, almost dejectedly, “I suppose you’ll be staying at Hogwarts over the holidays this year?”  
  
       Now Harry knew there was definitely something wrong. He hadn’t heard Sirius sound this depressed in a long time. He leaned forward, a frown creasing his brow as he asked anxiously, “Why? Don’t you want to spend Christmas together?”  
  
       Sirius’s gray eyes brightened, a hopeful smile on his lips. “Of course I do. Only … you have Sniv- err, Snape now, and the little one, and I wasn’t sure if you could travel …”  
  
       “I plan on us staying at Grimmauld Place over the holidays,” Harry said, his eyes grassy-green as he soothed his godfather’s fears, “if you don’t have any objections to hosting a houseful of Mori.”  
  
       Sirius chuckled, finding a momentary reprieve from his dark thoughts. “I wouldn’t mind a bit.”  
  
       “Then it’s settled?” Harry smiled.  
  
       “It’s settled.” The tension melted away from Sirius’s expression, and the remainder of their conversation was the same lighthearted banter that had always existed between them, ending on a mutual promise to write more during the remaining days until Christmas.  
  


 

* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
       It was late – nearly midnight – before Harry finally finished his homework. After the chat with Sirius, he’d resolved to work hard and make up for the missed class, but then Dorian had eluded Severus’s watchful gaze (“that child is a born escape artist,” Severus would say with mock despair) to ambush Harry on the sofa, begging with his big blue eyes for Harry to play with him. Needless to say, Harry immediately set aside his quill and parchment to spend time with the little boy. Then came supper, which was quite the family affair, with Dorian refusing to eat unless he had Severus sitting on one side of him and Harry on the other. Julian often ate with them as well, but this evening he didn’t return to the rooms until Dorian had been put to bed and Severus was busy in his laboratory, perfecting whatever experiment he’d been working on earlier (things going much smoother without his ‘assistant’ to help him). Harry tucked his Potions textbook into his schoolbag just as Julian drifted into the room through the shadows near the fireplace, a subdued expression on his face.  
  
       “Where’ve you been? You could have walked to Hogsmeade and back twice by now.”  
  
       Julian looked surprised that he’d been gone so long. “I took the opportunity to think some things over. The time just got away from me, I suppose.”  
  
       It was inevitable after so many days of close contact for Harry to sense even the slightest variations in his guardian’s demeanor, and Julian’s lackluster response made Harry curious. “Everything okay?”  
  
       [It’s been a long day, Harry. I’m just … so tired,] Julian replied with a weak smile, and he walked off in the direction of his own bedroom.  
  
       Harry frowned. It wasn’t like Julian to hide anything. What could possibly be bothering him so much that he would give Harry a vague answer like that?  
  
       “I talked to Sirius this afternoon,” he called out experimentally, and sure enough, that single piece of information was enough to have Julian pausing at the door to his room. Encouraged, Harry continued in a nonchalant manner, “He sounded lonely. I told him we would all come to Grimmauld Place for the holidays – oh, and he also asked about you.”  
  
       Julian’s shoulders tensed, but when he glanced back at Harry it was with a wry grin. “I suppose he was hoping I had other plans?”  
  
       Harry smirked. So even Julian had days where he was less than confident? “Actually, he wanted to know if you’d been sleeping well lately. I thought it was a strange thing to ask, but he wouldn’t tell me why he wanted to know.”  
  
       Julian’s eyes widened, the irises shifting from subdued honey-brown to vivid gold in an instant. “Sleeping well? Why would he – ” Julian's eyes darkened to a chocolate brown as realization dawned in his mind, and he laughed.   
  
       _Excellent reaction_ , Harry decided, though outwardly he feigned confusion. “What’s so funny?”  
  
       Julian shook his head, a pleased grin on his face. [I’m really too old for these little games,] he said as opened the door to his room. He was about to step inside when he looked back at Harry over his shoulder, a mischievous expression stealing over his youthful face. [But they can be so much fun to play,] and with another low chuckle, he disappeared into his bedroom.  
  
       Harry pressed his lips together tightly to contain his own laughter. _Sirius doesn’t stand a chance._  
  
       “A chance against what?” Severus asked as he emerged from his workroom.  
  
       “Julian,” Harry answered succinctly, unable to stifle his laughter this time.  
  
       A thin, venomous smile spread over Severus’s lips. “Ahh, he threatened the mutt, did he?”  
  
       “No, it’s more like he propositioned him.”  
  
       Severus’s smile drooped directly into a frown. “Propositioned?”  
  
       “Mmm-hmm,” was all Harry said in confirmation, setting his finished homework aside as he stood up from the sofa and held out his hand to Severus, presently more interested in his own sex life than Sirius's. “Let’s go to bed.”  
  
       Severus remained in a state of shock … or deep disgust, it was hard to tell. He looked as if he’d swallowed an entire cauldron of frog spawn. “He isn’t serious, is he? Maybe I should talk to him, make him see what a disaster Black can be …”  
  
       _And now the over-protective sibling instincts have kicked in_ , Harry thought with a sigh. Really, did they even _need_ to turn Severus? He acted like a Mori already. He tried again to get his attention, curling his arms around Severus's neck and nibbling at his earlobe. [Can’t this wait? We’ve hardly had any time to ourselves today.]  
  
       “ _Propositioned_?” Severus repeated in utmost disbelief, treating the word as if it was the most profane thing he’d ever heard.  
  
       “Right,” Harry said as he shoved Severus away. He started walking towards their bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt along the way, and pressed his voice forcefully into Severus’s mind, [You have ten seconds, and then I’m starting without you.]  
  
       Severus jerked out of his scandalized thoughts just in time to see Harry toss off his shirt as he walked into the dark bedroom.  
  
       [Ten … nine … eight … ]  
  
       Severus smirked and ventured after Harry, setting aside the problem of Julian and Sirius for another time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary (plus a lesson in Mori culture ^_^)
> 
>  
> 
>  **Vara** – An Elvish rune that means ‘protection.’ After the inclusion of humans into their bloodlines, it became tradition for all Mori to be marked with runes on the backs of each hand, Vara on the left and Turë (‘mastery’) on the right, to allow for a greater control over their innate abilities.


	41. Never Make A Bet With A Mori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally a one-shot that I wrote separately from the main story, but due to reader input I integrated it into Evernight. This chapter is entirely from Sirius's POV. If you're not into the Julian/Sirius potential pairing, then you can skip this chapter and not miss anything plot-wise in Evernight.

 

     Sirius sat in the window seat of the downstairs sitting-room, half-hidden by the thick burgundy drapes as he peered out at the street. He’d started to use this room more and more often since Halloween, making the window seat his new favorite perch – though he tried not to think about the implications of why he was drawn to that spot in particular.

     A light snow had started to fall in the early evening, dusting the sidewalk a powdery white that was soon trampled into gray slush by the oblivious passers-by, men and women hurrying home from a day’s work to their families or their lovers … at the very least, to an affectionate pet.

     Sirius envied them all.

     "Hiding in plain sight now, are you?" Remus asked from the doorway. 

     Sirius turned his attention back to the book in his lap, a torn and tattered manual on Occlumency he’d scrounged from the Black family library. "As far as they know, I don’t exist … this _house_ doesn’t even exist … so what is there to worry about?"

     Remus sighed, accustomed by now to his friend’s mood swings, though these fits of depression had become a worrying trend of late. He decided to change the subject, giving a nod at the book in Sirius’s lap. "Bit of light reading? Or have our new Mori friends made you nervous?"

     "I don’t think this book would help against someone like Rauko," Sirius said, flipping through the yellowed pages, "but I thought I should try to strengthen my mind anyway."

     He wasn’t really nervous about the Mori, per se – he found them to be rather enchanting, those magical creatures of darkness thought to be extinct by most in the wizarding world, whose mastery of shadows, immunity to dark magic, and remarkable mind talents had earned them a XXXXX M.O.M Classification from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Aside from Rauko, the charismatic leader of the Mori and the most powerful telepath Sirius had ever met, most of the Mori he knew were sweet-tempered and respectful of humans … from the gentle healer, Lisette (once human herself), to his one-time schoolmate, Aiya, and even … 

     Sirius clenched his jaw, refusing to finish that thought.

     "I’m relieved to know that Harry is adjusting well to being a morion," Remus continued the conversation, not realizing the internal struggle his friend was going through. It was well-known that Remus had his reservations about the Mori – he’d been against ‘turning’ Harry from the very start – but now it seemed like he was coming around to the idea of forming an alliance with the elusive creatures. 

     "I had a chat with that Shadowclaw," Remus made his lingering unease known by referring to Julian only by bloodline, "and he said Harry has all the characteristics of a powerful natural-born, which I suppose is a good thing."

     "He said that, eh?" Sirius tried to sound casual, but only succeeded in arousing his friend’s suspicion with his off-hand dismissal of anything to do with Harry – unusual behavior for the man whose life had come to center around his godson.

     "Yes, he did." Remus's eyes narrowed as he approached the window seat where Sirius was lounging. "You two seemed awfully chummy while he was here – in fact, he hardly let you out of his sight the entire time. Didn’t he discuss this with you already?"

_Chummy?_ Sirius bristled at the implications. He had not been ‘chummy’ with Julian Thorpe .. err, Shadowclaw … well, whatever he was calling himself these days. "He told me not to get between Harry and Severus, and that’s about it." _Oh, and he also told me that he doesn’t mind ‘chasing’ me, and that he likes the way I smell, and he’s made it clear that he wants to fuck me, but, other than that, we didn’t discuss anything important_ , Sirius ranted silently, unaware of the grumpy expression stealing over his face as he stewed in all his pent-up frustrations concerning Julian.

     Remus frowned. He could understand Sirius being unnerved by the mention of Julian if he’d undergone what Remus had gone through (it still gave him chills to think of how easily Julian had delved into his brain and taken control of his thoughts), but Julian had been nothing but friendly to Sirius – _hmmm, a little too friendly, perhaps_? Remus wondered. And come to think of it, now that he was closer to Sirius he could see the dark circles under his friend’s eyes and the slightly wild glint in his gray gaze. Something was obviously troubling him … 

     "Have you been getting enough sleep?" Remus asked quietly.

     "I sleep just fine," Sirius snapped, then added grudgingly, "been having some bad dreams, is all." _Dreams that seem so real …_ He glanced up at Remus, his gaze softening as a teasing grin curved his lips, giving his friend a glimpse of the old roguish charm that had made Sirius so popular with the witches back during their school days. "Quit worrying about me, Moony. Tonks will get jealous if you keep spending all your time fussing over me like this."

     Remus smirked, remarking dryly, "She understands – especially since it was her who found you drunk and half-naked after Harry and the others left three weeks ago."

     Sirius turned red – not because he was embarrassed to have been caught cock-in-hand by his cousin (he’d been too drunk at the time to even care) but because it brought back snatches of what had occurred only a few minutes prior to Tonks walking in on him … a hazy memory of lips and tongue and teeth, and a hand covering his own, urging him to stroke himself faster, and a voice – _gods! that voice_ – whispering and moaning in his ear, then in his mind, until he couldn’t be sure if that person had really been there or not. And ever since that day, the same voice echoed in his dreams, a husky honey-sweet voice that both tempted and terrified him … 

     … _Julian’s voice_.

     "Did it bother you that much?"

     Sirius shook himself, staring up at Remus as he asked breathlessly, "What?"

     "Harry’s leaving," Remus clarified, though not without a return of that suspicious expression. "You seemed to take it harder than usual."

     "Oh, that," Sirius fumbled with the book in his hands, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the conversation at hand. This was why he needed to develop some Occlumency skills. He needed a way to keep that sexy – err, _annoying_ – voice out of his head and give his scattered thoughts a chance to regroup. "I thought … maybe he wouldn’t come for Christmas, now that he and Snivellus are … well …"

     "Yes, yes, moving on," Remus interrupted, equally as squeamish as his friend when it came to discussing Harry’s relationship with Snape, though he didn’t necessarily share Sirius’s desire to skin Snape alive for ‘violating’ their late friend’s son.

     " … but he said he’d come … that they’d _all_ come … and now it seems we’ll be making quite a party of it."

     Remus smiled, glad to hear that Harry wasn’t isolating himself from Sirius, despite knowing how much Sirius and Snape hated each other. Then again, he wasn’t really surprised – Harry had always been fiercely loyal to those he loved. "When did you hear from him? Did he owl you?"

     Sirius averted his gaze. "I used the Floo Network."

     "To ask about Christmas?"

     "Not exactly."

     "What, then?" Remus smiled. "Did you miss hearing his voice?"

     Sirius glared at him, his mouth half-open to protest until he realized that, of course, Remus meant _Harry’s_ voice, and he traded in his glare for a casual grin. "I suppose so."

     Remus studied him a moment longer before he turned and started walking back towards the door. "I’m being sent off to negotiate with a pack of werewolves in the north, so it will be some time before we’ll see each other again – maybe not until after the holidays, even – so I’ll tell you Happy Christmas now, just in case."

     "Right, Happy Christmas. And be careful," Sirius said, though he knew such a warning was redundant in Remus’s case – of the four Marauders, Remus Lupin had always been the most level-headed.

     "I’ll have Tonks look in on you every now and then, just to make sure you’re getting enough sleep," was Remus’s laughing reply, chuckling as he added, "though this time I’ll remind her to knock first if you happen to be in your bedroom."

     Sirius smirked and tossed the Occlumency book after his retreating friend, the tattered tome hitting the closing door with a satisfying thwack.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

     It was close to midnight before Sirius abandoned his post at the window and made his weary way up the staircase to the second floor. The stark silence of the house bore down at him from all sides, an oppressive stillness that reinforced all his feelings of being trapped and imprisoned within the walls of his own home. The days following Halloween had been frantic and full of unpleasant surprises, but at least he’d been surrounded by people, the halls of Grimmauld Place alive with raised voices and slamming doors and lively chatter. Now it felt as if the house had drifted back to sleep, with only Sirius and Kreacher and the occasional Order member to nudge it awake from time to time.

_One ‘misfired’ Incendio and I could be rid of this place,_ he thought to himself bitterly, running a hand through his dark, shaggy hair. He paused at the first door to his right, his gray gaze shifting guiltily towards the door, then away, then back to the door, as if he were contemplating some truly wicked deed and not just the simple act of entering an unoccupied room in his own house. 

     But it wasn’t just any room – it had been _Julian’s_ room – and as Sirius turned the knob and opened the door, he was struck with the heady scent of herbs and spices, a bewitching blend of earth and fire that at once soothed and stimulated his restless mind.

_It’s like he never left_ , Sirius thought as he closed the door behind him, breathing in that scent eagerly but telling himself it was only because it was such a pleasant change from the stale, musty air usually found in the house’s many guest rooms. A wrinkled suit jacket lay neatly folded over the back of the room’s only chair, perhaps forgotten by its owner during the rush to leave, and the bedcovers were still slightly rumpled, making it appear that the bed had been occupied just that morning instead of nearly three weeks ago.

     "I should have known he’d find a way to leave a piece of himself behind," he said with a smirk, picking up the suit jacket and absently bringing it up to his face before he realized what he was doing. He tossed the scent-soaked clothing back onto the chair with a growl. Had he really intended to _sniff_ at Julian's discarded clothing like a dog in heat? He scowled at the innocent jacket, condemning it as a means for Julian to continue haunting and harassing him long after he had gone.

_That useless Kreacher should have cleaned this room weeks ago_ , he complained to himself – who else was there to complain to? – and he started to strip off the sheets from the bed, stubbornly insisting on ridding the room of Julian’s presence himself, but he only succeeded in dousing himself in another cloud of male, musky scent … something that shouldn’t have affected him at all … had _never_ affected him before meeting Julian.

     He sank down onto the bed and buried his face in his hands, valiantly fighting the confusion and longing that had been stirring inside of him these past few weeks. Maybe if he had an occupation, or if he had a constant companion other than Kreacher, he might have been able to distract himself from the near-hypnotic spell he’d fallen under, but he was isolated and idle, having traded one prison for another, and so he had all the time in the world to obsess over Julian’s aggressive pursuit and his own growing reluctance to push him away.

_… so tired_.

     Sirius nodded his agreement to the voice, his thoughts too disordered for him to be aware of the fact that it was not his own inner monologue that echoed in his mind. He _was_ exhausted, if only from the useless struggle to deny what he was feeling. Sooner or later, he’d have to admit that he craved Julian’s touch – but that didn’t mean he felt anything more than lust ... Yes, it was just lust. When was the last time he’d gotten laid, anyway? The fact that he couldn’t remember was proof in itself that it had been way too long – and lust was easily taken care of. 

     … _getting too old for these little games_ …

     "Much too old," Sirius muttered, laying back on the rumpled sheets with a sigh, kicking off his shoes but not getting any farther in undressing before a heavy lethargy settled in his limbs and left him helpless to the siren call of sleep.

     … _but they can be so much fun to play_.

_Fun_? was Sirius’s drowsy reply, the voice’s teasing comment tripping an alarm in his brain, but it was too late as he found himself swallowed by darkness, falling fast asleep on Julian’s bed.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

_[Sirius.]_

_A hand was sliding up Sirius’s thigh, its twin loosely clasping the wizard’s waist, and a warm, heavy weight had settled itself between his legs, spreading them wide enough that he could feel the way his trousers strained as they stretched to accommodate the unusual position._

_"Sirius," the voice came again, this time at his ear, in a husky whisper that tickled as well as titillated. "Have you been eavesdropping on my dreams, Sirius?"_

_He stirred and opened his eyes, but the room was too dark for him to see anything more than shadows. Strangely, he wasn’t frightened – only confused. He fumbled for his wand but came up empty-handed, belatedly realizing he wasn’t in his own room, and this wasn’t his bed._

_"Too dark," he murmured groggily, his mind still numb with sleep. He reached out to the warm presence above him, his hand bumping into bare skin and his fingertips tracing over smooth muscles before he hurriedly pulled back, beginning to grasp the reality of the situation._

_"It isn’t too dark for me," the voice taunted him._

_"Julian?" He tried to sit up but the hands that had been resting on his thigh and hip now moved to his shoulders, pressing him back against the mattress as two gleaming yellow eyes peered down at him from above, mesmerizing him with the primitive hunger that lay in their depths._

_[Mmm … I love how you say my name,] Julian purred, reverting back to mindspeak as he bent down to kiss his captive’s lips._

_"Wait just a - mmph," Sirius’s protest was muffled by Julian’s lips. This was another dream, yes? Just his imagination playing tricks on him … and yet … this wasn’t the same as all the other nights he had dreamed of Julian. Then, there had only been voices and brief, ghostly caresses, not this full-bodied contact, and certainly never to the extent that Sirius could feel Julian’s erection digging into his thigh …_

_[Do you want me to go away?] Julian broke the kiss and slid his hands down the front of Sirius’s shirt, nimble fingers slipping the buttons free one by one. [Do you want to wake up?]_

_The words ‘wake up’ stuck in Sirius’s mind. So it **was** a dream, after all. Just a harmless dream, without consequences. He could play along and it wouldn’t mean a thing, right? It would just be a release – a means to an end – and maybe if he gave in to his cravings now, they wouldn’t plague him in his waking hours. Maybe this was his chance to break Julian’s hold over him …_

_[I have a **hold** over you?] Julian asked, his voice colored by both amusement and arousal, and he rewarded Sirius’s unspoken confession by slipping his hands inside Sirius’s half-buttoned shirt and massaging his bare chest, rubbing and pinching his nipples._

_Sirius withstood the pleasurable torment as long as he could, furious that Julian had plucked his thoughts out of his head so easily, until finally anger and frustration pushed him to act. He sat up quickly, the sudden movement knocking Julian back for a moment, and this gave Sirius time to pull the hindering shirt over his head and toss it aside._

_"Let’s just get this over with," he snapped, relishing the astonishment that flickered in Julian’s golden eyes. "I want to get you out of my head."_

_The shadows lifted, allowing Sirius a clear view for the first time. Julian knelt between Sirius’s spread legs, unclothed and uninhibited, his creamy skin gilded in the soft glow that marked him as a Mori. Gone were his glamours and his dimming, his ever-youthful face a breathtaking blend of high cheekbones, luminous tawny eyes, full lush lips, and a feral beauty so sharp and defined that Sirius couldn’t tear his gaze away, powerless to do anything but stare._

_[You think it will be so easy to forget me?] One hand pushed Sirius down onto his back again, the other tugging at the waistband of his trousers. Julian’s chestnut brown hair fell in silky waves around his face, further accentuating the radiance of his skin and the molten gold of his eyes._

_Sirius’s breath caught in his throat._

_A slow, wicked smile curved Julian's lips and he chuckled. [You think one taste will be enough?]_

_"This … this **thing** between us … it’s just a fluke. I prefer women," Sirius insisted, but it was hard persuading even himself that this was true, especially when his cock twitched eagerly as Julian reached down to unfasten his now too-tight and uncomfortable trousers._

_"Gender is irrelevant," Julian said dismissively, easing Sirius’s trousers down off his hips and releasing the growing evidence of his arousal. He curled his fingers around the hardening shaft and gave Sirius’s cock a few quick, rough strokes._

_"For you, maybe," Sirius hissed, his teeth gritted against the urge to moan._

_Julian’s eyes narrowed to slits of dark amber as he seemed to tire of Sirius’s stubborn denials, but then his expression softened and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He gave Sirius’s cock a harsh squeeze, finally eliciting a moan from the reluctant wizard’s mouth, then took his hand away. "If you really believe that … then maybe you’d care to make a little wager?"_

_Intrigued but wary, Sirius narrowed his eyes distrustfully at Julian's playful smile. "What kind of wager?"_

_"I bet that I can make you come first." Julian’s eyes sparkled with mischief, making him look even more like an unruly teenager rather than a century-old creature of darkness._

_"W-what?" Sirius laughed, startled out of his petulant mood by the somewhat childish glee emblazoned on Julian’s face, responding in kind to that infectious grin._

_Julian made a needy sound low in his throat at the sight of Sirius grinning, driven to commemorate the occasion by capturing Sirius’s smiling lips in a quick kiss before he whispered huskily, "Whoever comes first loses. If you win, I promise to keep my distance – physically and mentally – so you can forget all about me."_

_Sirius cocked his head to the side, surprised that Julian would even consider such a bet. His lips twisted into a far more cynical smile. "And if you win?"_

_Julian shrugged a shoulder, almost absent-minded in the way he replied, "Then things go on the same … me chasing you; you running away; me catching you and inflicting all my naughty fantasies on you; you denying you like it while sporting an obvious and, might I say, impressive erec – "_

_"Shut up." Sirius ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he should have just insisted on being freed from this dream from the very beginning. His body’s response to Julian frightened him, if only because it seemed to come from nowhere. If he won this bet, he could take back control of the situation. It was a tempting offer … but something about it bothered him. He peered at Julian suspiciously. "All you want if you win is for things to stay the same? What kind of prize is that?"_

_Julian flashed that bittersweet smile that never failed to pierce Sirius’s heart, his eyes gradually darkening to a deep brown as he murmured, "If you have to ask, then you don’t understand why I’m here in the first place."_

_‘Words – they’re just words,’ Sirius lied to himself, determined to disregard the pang in his chest that came from seeing that anguished smile. Any fool could see that the naked emotion in Julian’s gaze was genuine, but accepting Julian's feelings would compel Sirius to examine his own, and he wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready. ‘All the more reason to win this wager,’ he decided, and with more bravado than he felt, he announced, "It’s a bet."_

_Surprise, then delight, replaced Julian's melancholy expression, and he happily leaned in for another kiss to ‘seal the deal.’_

_Sirius blocked Julian’s progression with one hand pressed against his chest. "But no fucking."_

_Julian’s delectable lips pursed into a pout but Sirius wasn’t about to let himself be swayed on that point._

_" No fucking," he repeated._

_"Even if it’s just my fingers?" Julian’s hand had crept between Sirius’s thighs to his ass, and he now rubbed two nimble digits against Sirius's puckered hole._

_Sirius yelped, then glared at him in frustration. " **No**."_

_"You aren’t making this easy on me," Julian objected quietly before he exhaled his disappointment in one long, shuddering sigh, looking very put-out at being denied full access to the body beneath him, but he bounced back quickly, all smiles again as he reverted back to his usual cheerful self. "Fine, no fucking. It’s probably for the best, anyway – I doubt I’d last ten seconds buried inside such a tight, hot – "_

_Sirius silenced him with another irritated look._

_[Hmm, yes, you’re right – the time for conversation has passed.] Julian unexpectedly pushed Sirius’s legs into the air and tugged off his trousers, pitching the clothing over his shoulder once he’d rid himself of the last barrier between his penetrating gaze and Sirius’s bare skin. He took his time studying Sirius’s body, not touching him save for where his hand cupped one hip possessively, as if his current state of restraint was only possible as long as he maintained some sort of physical contact with him. Julian inspected every inch of Sirius’s body, his eyes making the startling shift from dark brown to cat’s-eye yellow (a sure sign that his instincts were starting to take over), and Sirius felt himself grow even harder under such a ravenous stare._

_[I can’t believe I promised not to fuck you.] Julian’s fingers dug into Sirius’s hip, his nails leaving crimson half-moons in Sirius's skin as he fought to restrain the animalistic urge to claim his mate. He rubbed up against Sirius’s body, slow and sweet, like a cat wanting to be petted. [Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to – ]_

_"I’m positive," Sirius informed him in a cranky tone, but the heat radiating off his body had nothing to do with his fiery temper._

_[I’ll have plenty of time to change your mind after I win this bet,] Julian declared softly, his teeth bared in a predatory grin._

_"I won’t change my mind, so you should just – ahhh!" Sirius broke off mid-rant as Julian roughly grasped his cock._

_[I should what? Give up?] That sinfully soft whisper teased Sirius’s fevered brain, coaxing him further and further into a realm of the senses, far from doubt and fear and confusion, where he was surrounded only by pleasure and pain and that delicious voice that sent his head spinning and his pulse racing. Julian relaxed his grip, using his thumb to stroke up and down the underside of Sirius’s cock, his touch torturously feather-light. [I would sooner give up breathing than allow you to slip away from me.]_

_"You won’t have a choice if I win," Sirius reminded him, even as his hips bucked against Julian's hand in a desperate quest for friction._

_Julian’s only answer was to flash his would-be lover an enigmatic smile as he replaced his hand with his lips, licking just the head of Sirius’s penis before sucking the tip of him into the hot, wet recesses of his mouth, taking in as much of his shaft as he could then pulling back, then easing down on him again, slowly building momentum._

_Sirius cursed brokenly and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the mind-blowing sight of Julian’s lips stretched around his throbbing cock, but the image didn’t disappear when he closed his eyes and Sirius realized there was nowhere to hide in this dreamscape – not from Julian, and not from his own desires. He reached down with one hand and grabbed Julian’s silky hair, aiming to pull Julian off of him, but the sharp tug he inflicted on Julian’s scalp had an unintended effect as Julian groaned loudly and began bobbing faster on Sirius’s cock, sucking wildly and grinding his own crotch against the sheets as he sought an outlet for the sudden spike of his arousal. The sight of Julian losing control almost did Sirius in – and it hadn’t even been ten minutes yet._

_Then and there, Sirius realized he was in trouble._

_‘Damn him, but he’s good at this,’ Sirius groaned silently, then instantly regretted letting such a thought slip through his mind when obviously Julian could hear it. As if to punish Julian for his own mistake, Sirius gave another painful yank on his hair, and this time Julian had to pull completely away from his eager suckling, muffling his hoarse moan against Sirius’s thigh. It took him a moment to recover, but when he did it was with renewed determination sharpening his expression._

_[Don’t play rough unless you mean it,] he warned sternly, glancing up at Sirius with bright yellow eyes. His nails were once again digging painfully into Sirius's hips, but the pain only enhanced the pleasure Sirius was feeling and he couldn’t bring himself to complain about it._

_"What, you didn’t like it?" Sirius asked with as innocent an expression as he could muster, but he gently released the dark, silky strands of hair from his grasp._

_[Toying with a Shadowclaw is a dangerous thing, Sirius.] Julian began stroking Sirius's slick cock with his hand while pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his inner thigh. [My bite is infinitely worse than my bark …]_

_Sirius’s hips bucked at the word ‘bite.’_

_Julian paused in his teasing to allow his teeth to graze Sirius's flesh, provoking another twitch of Sirius’s hips, and he smirked. [Ahh, I see I’ve caught your attention now … are you ready to behave?]_

_Sirius was getting desperate now. He couldn’t believe how incredibly turned-on he felt at the thought of Julian biting him. When did he develop such a kinky fetish? He turned defensive, snarling, "Shouldn’t you be trying to make me come?"_

_[I could ask the same of you,] Julian said with a mocking smile, but he seemed more than willing to take the offensive as he pushed Sirius’s legs back against his chest and began voraciously licking the very entrance he’d been forbidden to penetrate, while simultaneously maintaining his firm, steady stroke on Sirius’s cock._

_"Hey … hey!" Sirius wriggled his arse, trying to escape Julian's wicked tongue. "That’s off-limits!"_

_[Mmmm … you said no fucking and no fingers … you didn’t say anything about my tongue.] In a move that would have made Rauko proud, Julian had found a loophole that Sirius hadn’t anticipated and was now using it to his advantage._

_Sirius grunted at a particularly delicious jab of Julian's tongue, his fingers clawing at the bed sheets as he struggled to fight his on-coming climax. He couldn’t lose already – how could allow himself to be defeated so soon? But between the way Julian was jerking him off and the clever tricks he played with his tongue, Sirius was helpless to prevent it._

_Just as he tumbled off the edge of pleasure, he heard Julian’s voice echoing in his mind, as clear and resonant as a bell, bringing him back to his senses even as an explosion of stars lit the darkness of his mind._

_[Sirius, what’s wrong?]_

_Sirius gasped for breath, somewhat bitter at being robbed of the euphoria of what he was sure had been a spectacular release, but when he looked down at Julian it was to see, with amazement, his still-hard cock clutched loosely in Julian's hand, the engorged shaft as stiff and straining as ever._

_"But I thought …"_

_[You have more stamina than I thought you would,] Julian cut him off glumly. He gazed up at Sirius with heavily-lidded eyes, his lips parted slightly to allow for his panting breaths and his skin dewy with sweat. His golden eyes burned with need as he rubbed his cheek against Sirius’s cock._

_"It’s a surprise to me, too," Sirius choked out. He felt twice as sensitive as before, and being faced with such an erotic sight didn’t help matters. Reaching down, he grabbed Julian’s arms and pulled him up so that they were lying side by side, facing each other. Without another word to the puzzled morion, he leaned in and captured those tempting lips in an aggressive kiss, hell-bent on winning the bet. He’d been given a miraculous second chance and he wasn’t about to squander it._

_He met no resistance from Julian as he plundered his mouth, sliding his fingers into that dark brown hair once more (but forcing himself to resist the urge to pull on it again) as he deepened the kiss, excited – though he’d never admit it – by the soft mewling sounds Julian made whenever Sirius’s tongue brushed against his. This creature in his arms that could arouse him with little more than a glance was now at his mercy, and for the first time he felt confident that he could win._

_He slid his free hand down Julian’s throat to his chest, exploring the smooth, supple skin with deliberate slowness, waiting until Julian was writhing before dipping lower, delighting in the quiver of muscle beneath his palm as he passed over Julian’s flat stomach and defined abs._

_‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,’ Sirius realized as he drew back from the kiss to stare at Julian’s nudity, unashamed of his interest since he could play it off as part of his strategy to defeat him._

_Julian turned his face towards the pillow, perhaps to hide his expression or to silence his moans, but Sirius wouldn’t allow it, forcefully turning his chin so that their eyes met once more, gold meeting gray … just as Sirius encircled Julian’s cock with his left hand and gave his flesh a harsh tug._

_Julian’s eyes flared to stunning yellow and he yanked Sirius against him in what might have been construed as a hug, had he not suddenly clamped down on the crook of Sirius's neck with his teeth._

_"Ungh!" Sirius squeezed Julian’s cock in reflex, his painful grip only inciting Julian to growl and inflict a second, deeper bite not far from the first one, drawing blood as he made his primitive ‘mark’ on the body of his chosen mate._

_[Amin maura a’ lle.] Julian traded English for Elvish, too caught up in the ancient ritual of claiming his lover to realize he’d made the switch. He continued nipping and biting at Sirius’s tender neck and shoulders, sometimes merely bruising the skin, other times biting hard enough to break the skin so he could savor the sweet tang of Sirius’s blood._

_If the anticipation of suffering the painful pleasure of Julian’s bite had been enough to arouse him, actually experiencing the frenzy of teeth and tongue against his skin shattered any control that Sirius had won back after the first time he’d nearly lost. When Julian apologetically sucked at his stinging neck, it proved too much to bear and once more Sirius found himself tumbling towards release – only to fall short, it seemed, as Julian called him back again from the edge, barely saving Sirius from falling out of this marvelous dream state._

_[Don’t wake up,] he pleaded, raining kisses over Sirius’s face. [Stay with me. Don’t leave.]_

_"I can’t … leave. I haven’t …won yet," Sirius forced out thickly, feeling strange and slightly drunk, intoxicated by this Mori and his seductive voice. Had he really escaped defeat a second time? Could he really be that lucky? A nagging doubt surface in the back of his mind, but it was soon obliterated by the press of Julian’s hot, sweaty skin against his own as Julian molded their bodies together, resorting to rubbing their erections together as he, too, fell victim to his desires._

_[You don’t sound as confident as before,] Julian’s taunt came between jagged breaths, ruining the effect. He pushed Sirius onto his back and straddled his thighs, simulating the act of fucking though he kept his promise and didn’t go further than mere imitation._

_Sirius couldn’t think of a snappy comeback, too distracted by the furious grind of Julian’s cock against his own to formulate a response. He half-expected the sheets to catch fire, the moment was so white-hot. How could a dream feel so real? And if this is what it felt like just to dream of sex with Julian, then what would it feel like in real life?_

_[Do you really want to know?] Julian responded to Sirius’s unspoken questions. His husky whisper sent a thrill through the wizard beneath him. [I can show you … I want to show you …]_

_Sirius clenched his teeth and refused to answer – he was afraid of what he would say._

_In time, the pleasure grew too intense, and Sirius realized there was no way he could hold back his release a third time. Judging from the throaty cries torn from Julian’s lips, he was close as well. Desperate to win – at least, that’s what he told himself – he pulled Julian into a kiss and bit savagely into his lower lip, spilling blood as he sank his teeth into the tender flesh – and with that one feral act, he felt Julian’s body tense and his back arch as he exploded into a fierce and unexpected climax._

_[A’maelamin.] The Elvish word slipped from Julian at his most vulnerable, sweetly and touchingly whispered into Sirius’s mind, accompanied by a yearning ache that seemed to lay bare the morion’s heart – even though the word itself was an enigma that Julian made no effort to explain._

_"I … I won," Sirius gasped out, more out of a need to distract himself from the intimacy of the moment than to gloat over his victory._

_Julian licked his blood-stained lips, rocking against Sirius’s thighs as he squeezed every ounce of pleasure he could out of his release. There was a wicked glint in his golden eyes that made Sirius doubt his own triumphant declaration but Julian took his time responding, choosing first to lick the stray droplets of come from Sirius’s thighs and stomach while carefully evading his stiff and straining erection (much to Sirius’s despair), then he kissed his way up Sirius’s body to nuzzle affectionately at his throat._

_"You lost, Sirius," he murmured, nipping lightly at Sirius’s bruised neck._

_Sirius moaned as Julian licked at the worst of the bite marks he’d left on his skin, gently tending to the wounds even though there would be no sign of them once Sirius woke up._

_"I bloody **won** ," Sirius insisted raggedly, not willing to concede defeat when clearly Julian had lost. "You said whoever came first would lose."_

_Julian laughed, a low, raspy chuckle that went straight to Sirius’s neglected cock and had him squirming._

_" **You** came first," Julian taunted him, and the dream began to break apart, as if those words had pulled at a loose thread and now the intricately-woven dreamscape was unraveling._

_Sirius clutched tightly at Julian's hips, trapping him there against his groin, refusing to let Julian go without getting his own release – or without settling the issue of who really won. "I didn’t fucking come **at all** – just admit that you lost."_

_But he was losing his grasp on the comfortable weight of the morion straddling him, and even Julian’s voice became faint and elusive as Sirius’s vision grew fuzzy and true consciousness beckoned._

_[Oh, I made you come, Sirius – in fact, I made you come **twice** ,] was Julian's final, mischievous comment, followed by one last sweet kiss against Sirius’s lips, and then he was gone …_

 

 

     … and Sirius was fully awake, fully clothed (aside from his shoes), and horny as hell. 

     He reached down with a shaking hand to discover that not only did he still have one very painful erection, but he also had a pair of ruined trousers, the material sticky and damp as it clung to his crotch and thighs, undeniable proof that Julian had, indeed, won their bet.

     "That … that _sneaky bastard_ ," he fumed, realizing too late that Julian had been manipulating him the entire time. Not only had he prevented Sirius from realizing he really was having two brilliant orgasms (well, he assumed they’d been brilliant, judging from how he’d felt during the dream), but the crafty morion had also left him hard and needy as some sort of twisted parting gift. 

_He won the bet **and** he tricked me into getting him off_ , Sirius sulked, though he couldn’t deny that Julian's plan had been flawless. He wondered just how long Julian would have let their little competition go on if Sirius hadn’t caught him off guard with that vicious kiss and forced him to reveal the truth. A couple of hours? All night? A part of him regretted that he would never know … 

     "I’ll win next time," he growled, his competitive spirit taking over, but in the next instant he realized what he’d just said, groaning as he covered his face with his hands. _No! No next time!_ he berated himself, though now that Julian had won their bet, he was honor-bound to allow his amorous advances … Sirius’s only remaining power lay in saying yes or no.

     "Always no," he told himself, though his hard cock and come-soaked trousers told a different story. 

     Still, if he came away from this experience learning only one thing, it was this:

_Never make a bet with a Mori._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **Amin maura a’ lle** – I am addicted to you.  
>  **A’maelamin** – my beloved


	42. In The Blink Of An Eye

 

       _That second bowl of porridge was a bad idea_ , Harry told himself as he stood hunched over the withered grass behind the Quidditch stands, puking up his breakfast while Julian whispered soothing Elvish into Harry’s ears, waiting for Harry’s heaving to stop.   
  
       [I don’t think this baby is fond of Hogwarts food,] Harry joked, wiping his mouth with the back of one trembling hand.   
  
       [It’s the sun,] Julian said as he led Harry over to the darkest shadow cast by the tall stands, waiting for Harry to settle himself before sitting cross-legged beside him. He remained hidden for the most part, the shadows capturing him in a loose, loving embrace, but at times his hands and face were visible, like a ghostly mirage. He took out a hand-rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket and placed it in his mouth, striking a match to light it and savoring that first drag before adding merrily in a puff of sweet-smelling smoke, [It’s _always_ the sun. Bloody thing lives to torture us. Even in the dead of winter - coldest day of the year, twelve inches of snow on the ground - if that sun is shining brightly, you’re going to feel it. _Bone-deep_. Did you see the way it was playing hide and seek with us behind those clouds? One minute I’m seeing clear as midnight, the next I’m tripping over my own feet because it decided to pop out and surprise me.]   
  
       Harry grinned despite his churning stomach, tickled by the way Julian talked about the sun as if it was an annoying younger brother putting snakes in his bed and spitting on his toothbrush. He expected bitterness – he’d learned from Hermione that hemeralopia, or day-blindness, could be very painful for a Mori in its most severe cases – but there was nothing but warm, indulgent humor in Julian’s voice.   
  
       Quidditch practice had drawn them out into the bright sunshine, and at first Harry thought he’d be able to handle it without a problem, but he couldn’t focus properly on guiding his team with all that sunlight soaking into his skin. Shortness of breath, hot flashes, dizzy spells, nausea … he bore it all with a forced grin and a determination to be useful – if not as a player, then at least as a captain. Hermione, supposedly there to cheer on Ron, tried to alleviate his suffering by conjuring a cloud to follow Harry around, but his clueless teammates, thinking he’d been hexed by a malicious prankster, kept banishing the cloud as soon as they spotted it in a misguided attempt to help their hapless leader.   
  
       Julian hadn’t fared much better in the light of day, nearly tumbling out of his threshold a time or two, but Harry had a hunch that it wasn’t just the mischievous sun that had thrown him off-balance.   
  
       [I can’t blame it all on sun-sickness. I didn’t get much sleep last night.] Harry waved away a tendril of smoke that had twirled his way, keeping his tone light as he set a trap meant to squeeze out a confirmation of his own suspicions over Julian’s state of distraction. [I kept waking up because of these strange sounds - moans and groans, that sort of thing …]   
  
       Julian choked on his next drag and started coughing. Harry grinned knowingly.   
  
       [ … but Severus insists I’m imagining things.]   
  
       [Don’t you have an appointment with Lisette this afternoon?] Julian quickly changed the subject. [Maybe she can give you something to help you sleep.]   
  
       _Should I mention the part where I heard him call out Sirius’s name?_ Harry swallowed his laughter and mercifully allowed Julian to steer the conversation to safer waters. [I’m off to see her as soon as practice is over.]   
  
       [Practice _is_ over, at least in your case. No sense taking any risks with your health.] Julian held his cigarette casually between the fingers of one hand while massaging his right temple with the other. [Consequently, I’m getting another Severus-induced headache … do you realize you’re blocking him again?]   
  
       Harry cringed. He’d fallen into the bad habit of barricading his mind whenever he suffered the ill-effects of his pregnancy, unconsciously pushing Severus out during the worst of it and sheepishly inviting him back in when it was all over. It had led to some heated arguments between them (followed by equally heated make-up sex) and Harry tried very hard to keep his mind open and unrestricted to his lover, but most of the time he wasn’t even aware of blocking Severus until after the fact.   
  
       [Give me a minute and I’ll let him back in,] Harry said wearily, rubbing circles over his stomach to soothe the restless child within. [Don’t tell him how sick I was. He’ll forbid me to ever step foot in sunlight again – or worse, he’ll make me drink more of that god-awful potion of his.]   
  
       Julian smiled apologetically, as if to say, ‘Sorry, too late,’ and Harry groaned. There were times when he wished Julian believed in barriers.   
  
       [Remind me to never tell you a secret,] Harry said with a sour look, though it was impossible to stay mad at Julian for long, especially when Julian's smile grew into a Cheshire grin with his face fading in and out of sight just like that mischievous storybook cat. [And get back inside the threshold before someone sees your disembodied head floating around.]   
  
       [Are parts of me sticking out?] Julian sounded genuinely alarmed and surprised by this fact and, after quickly putting out his cigarette, he scooted back into his threshold until not even a strand of hair could be seen. [I’m a bit out of sorts today, I suppose.]   
  
       Harry chuckled. [Right. Because of the _sun_.]   
  
       Overhead, he could hear the shouts of his teammates as someone – his best guess was Ron, judging from the teasing tone in Ginny’s voice – flubbed a play, and he let loose a disappointed sigh that he couldn’t join in on the practice. Quidditch had always been a big part of his school year, and flying – well, he’d always felt like he’d been _born_ to fly – but the sun hindered all his natural ability to excel at the sport he loved, and broomsticks in general were out of the question anyway, according to Severus.   
  
       _Still, one loop around the pitch wouldn’t hurt_ , Harry thought as he started to cave in to the temptation of summoning his firebolt for a quick diversion before keeping his appointment with Lisette. _Just a short ride – ten minutes, at the most._   
  
       [Not if I have anything to say about it.]   
  
       Harry belatedly remembered his lowered barriers as Severus’s voice, bitterly cold, assaulted his unprotected mind and squashed any ideas of Harry taking a forbidden joyride on his cherished broomstick.   
  
       [I don’t want to see you anywhere near that broomstick of yours, Potter. You can’t be a reckless teenager anymore – you’re responsible for more than just your own life these days, or have you forgotten?]   
  
       [You are so paranoid! It’s not as if I’d fall off my broomstick. When have I _ever_ fallen off my broomstick unless someone or something was working hard to knock me off of it?]   
  
       [That’s the ‘Potter Arrogance’ in you talking,] was Severus’s sharp retort, his presence swelling angrily in Harry’s mind. [Your father – ]   
  
       [ – is dead, so just leave him out of this,] Harry snapped right back, but a part of him was shocked to hear Severus bring James into the conversation after months of tactfully steering around any mention of his old childhood nemesis. It felt like they were backsliding into the same petty arguments that had plagued their relationship (such as it was) for the first six years of Harry’s schooling – and Severus must have felt it, too, because his anger dwindled until the only emotions he projected were mild irritation and remorse.   
  
       [Fine.]   
  
       A long stretch of silence followed Severus’s quiet agreement to drop the prickly subject, and it took several tense seconds before he calmly resumed their debate. [Lisette informs me that night flying would be acceptable – in moderation – as long as you did not fly alone, but flying during the daytime is strictly prohibited. Is that understood?]   
  
       Harry perked up, happily imagining a midnight reunion with his firebolt, but he sagged dejectedly as soon as he realized that the compromise wasn’t much of a compromise at all. His complaints, when he finally found the spirit to voice them, were rushed and disjointed and barely coherent. [Night flying? When would I have the time to – and what about the way the moon makes me – and just _who the hell_ would be up there with – ]   
  
       [Exactly. With all those complications, it hardly seems worth the effort.] There was a trace of smugness in Severus’s voice. [So we’re agreed?]   
  
       [That you’re a bastard? Yes, I completely agree with that.]   
  
       He could feel Severus’s presence grow warmer, a cozier feeling replacing the rigid tension of before, and Harry found himself instinctively relaxing, his body taking its cues from Severus’s improving mood – it was a side effect of their connection that left Harry at a distinct disadvantage during a fight.   
  
       [You should be nicer to the father of your unborn child,] Severus murmured softly, that coaxing whisper sending a delightful shiver along Harry's spine. Severus chuckled darkly, adding, [Besides, I have something much better for you to ride than a silly broomstick.]   
  
       Harry’s mortified blush coincided with the arrival of his two best friends. Apparently, practice had ended and the rest of the Gryffindor team was trudging back into the castle to escape the worsening chill.   
  
       “Are you _sweating?_ ” Ron asked Harry incredulously as he wound his scarf a little tighter around his neck. “It’s freezing out here!”   
  
       _Sweating?_ Harry patted his cheek with one hand, surprised at how moist and feverish his skin felt. He shoved at Severus’s continuing presence in his mind, annoyed that one seductive phrase could trigger such an immediate physical reaction from him.   
  
       Hermione smacked Ron lightly on the arm. “Brilliant observation, Ron. He’s been sick – what do you expect?”   
  
       Harry forced a wan smile, but on the inside he was writhing in sweet agony as Severus tortured him with ‘visual aides’ of exactly what he could provide that Harry’s firebolt couldn’t. He politely half-listened to Ron’s run-down of the plays they’d ironed out, as well as Hermione’s suspicions over whether that stray student lingering downfield during the first half of practice had been Rhys spying on Harry again, but later he’d be hard-pressed to remember even a word of what they’d said to him. No, his attention was focused on that illicit murmur in his mind, and finally he could bear it no longer and was about to beg Severus to stop – just as Severus seemed to be warming to the idea of Harry reuniting with his firebolt, though with less emphasis on flying and more emphasis on …   
  
       “No way am I doing _that_ with a broomstick!” Harry startled everyone with his outburst, though he didn’t give his friends much thought as he quickly adjusted his trousers, wishing he’d worn his robes. “I mean, is that sort of thing even _possible??_ Please tell me it’s not possible …”   
  
       “ _Hmph._ Wizards and their broomsticks,” Julian muttered from the shadows, and Harry could imagine him rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the ‘strange tastes’ of his human companions.   
  
       “Ahh, Harry must be talking to _him_ ,” Hermione said with a sly smile. “No wonder he’s been so distracted.”   
  
       “Not listening, not listening,” Ron chanted, holding his hands over his ears as he started humming to tune out any further insights Harry might give into the depraved mind of their former professor. As it was, he’d gone just as crimson as Harry once he’d drawn his own conclusions about the ‘broomstick’ comment.   
  
       [The logistics of it might take a few tries to smooth out,] Severus continued to harass his lover, [but if you miss your broomstick so much, who am I to come between the two of you?]   
  
       [Get out of my head, you perverted old man.] Harry tried forcefully pushing a beyond-amused Severus out of his mind, but he refused to be ejected so easily.   
  
       [Hurry back. Lisette is waiting for you,] he said in clipped, authoritarian tones – then, in a ragged whisper so faint that Harry recognized it as ‘thought’ rather than ‘speech,’ Severus added, _and so am I._   
  
       _He sounded a bit lonely just then_ , Harry thought with a frown.   
  
       [Time to go?] Julian stirred restlessly in the shadows, eager to be back inside the castle again after dodging sunbeams all morning.   
  
       [Yeah, you go on ahead. I won’t make you tag along for the walk back – Ron and Hermione will make sure I get back safely.]   
  
       [Are you sure?] Julian couldn’t disguise the obvious relief in his voice – free of Harry’s shadow, he could simply use the void to return to the dungeons and there would be no need for him to endure another sunlit stroll.   
  
       [Positive.] It would be the first time outside of his rooms that Harry didn’t have Julian right beside him, and he wanted to see how he would handle a ‘shadow-free’ walk through Hogwarts. He was beginning to think that he relied on Julian too much, and he wanted to re-establish some of his old independence. It would also allow the three friends to talk freely to each other without a ‘chaperone’ listening in. When Julian still hesitated to leave, Harry gave him a friendly mental nudge. [Go on. I’ll be fine.]   
  
       He waited until he felt Julian’s presence fade, an emptiness spreading through the shadows surrounding where he sat, before he held his hand out to Ron. “Help me up, will you? I sent Julian on ahead, so we’ve got from now until the time it takes to get to the dungeons for us to talk about anything we don’t want overheard.”   
  
       Once Harry was on his feet, they began to walk leisurely back towards the castle. Hermione, efficient as ever, took charge of the discussion.   
  
       “I’ve looked into Professor Lyr’s background, Harry, but there wasn’t much to find. His family is of Russian descent, strictly pureblood and fairly well-off, but there have only been a handful of dark wizards in the entire family – and most of those were back in the Middle Ages. I don’t think he’s a good candidate for a Death Eater.” She consulted the notes clutched in her mittened hands, ticking off the few details she’d unearthed about their professor. “His full name is Alexander Fyodor Lyr. He’s thirty-nine years old; no spouse; no children. There weren’t many details on his immediate family, but he did have an older brother, Marek, who died about twenty years ago. Both he and his brother were graduates of Durmstrang, and both of them eventually settled in England. I’m not sure what his brother did, but Professor Lyr worked as a researcher – inventing new potions, improving on the old ones – that sort of thing.”   
  
       “No wonder he encourages us to experiment,” Ron said, one arm slung across Hermione’s shoulders.   
  
       “If he’s a researcher, he must have someone backing him.” Harry shielded his eyes from the sun, trying his best to keep his mind focused on the problem at hand. “Is he affiliated with any organization? The Ministry, maybe?”   
  
       “No, if there’s one thing he’s known for, it’s his neutrality. He works alone, so I’m guessing all his research is funded by a family trust or some other inheritance.”   
  
       Harry sighed and scratched his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Professor Grimshaw was appointed by the Ministry because he worked for them as an Auror. Why would the Ministry recommend Professor Lyr if he’s so famously neutral? Why not stick another of their own cronies into Hogwarts?”   
  
       Hermione considered the question carefully, tapping her notebook against her thigh, then answered, “The way I see it, there can only be two reasons. One, they want someone who won’t back down from Dumbledore – let’s face it, Grimshaw falls all over himself when it comes to the headmaster, despite his Ministry ties – or two, Professor Lyr is connected to someone within the Ministry and _that_ person arranged for him to get the job.”   
  
       “Someone like Malfoy.” Ron put into words what all three of them were thinking.   
  
       “I still think there’s something we’re missing,” Harry said. “The pieces don’t quite fit. If he’s so neutral, then Professor Lyr wouldn’t have anything to do with Lucius, right? So we’re right back where we started.”   
  
       “Hmmm.” Hermione flipped back through her notes, then glanced over at Harry. “What if this is like our fourth year? Could we be dealing with a poly-juiced imposter?”   
  
       “It’s possible,” Harry reluctantly agreed. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were overlooking some vital part of the puzzle. “But I rarely see him drinking anything. Barty Crouch always had Moody’s flask filled with potion to help him keep up the charade – how would someone impersonating Professor Lyr manage it?”   
  
       They all three fell silent again.   
  
       “You know,” Ron started slowly, choosing his words with unusual care, “he _could_ just be an ordinary professor. He hasn’t done anything suspicious yet, and he doesn’t pay more attention to Harry than to anyone else. What if we’re investigating the wrong guy?”   
  
       Harry remained silent. He couldn’t blame Ron for doubting his instincts – after all, his two friends had gushed over the new professor just like every other student, and Hermione had only started looking into Lyr’s background at Harry’s insistence. So far, nothing sinister had occurred under Lyr’s tutelage, and he’d treated Harry just like any other student, but Harry felt, with absolute certainty, that this new Potions professor meant trouble. The spirits, when he asked them about his reaction, were unable to confirm or deny anything – in fact, they seemed confused by Professor Lyr, as if he was an enigma that not even their great knowledge and vast experience could solve.   
  
       They had reached the castle at this point and, as Harry crossed over from sunshine to shadow, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders and a wave of contentment – the baby’s, not his own – rolled through his mind. Only now, away from the light of the sun, did he realize how cold his hands and face were, and he shivered despite the warmth of his coat.   
  
       Hermione, the first to break the tense silence that had descended after Ron’s comments, lowered her voice as they entered the main hallway of the castle. “No, we have to trust Harry’s instincts. Mori intuition is highly accurate. Even if the professor isn’t working with Lucius or Voldemort, he’s still hiding something.”   
  
       “We’ll just keep an eye on him,” Harry said quietly. He quickly changed the subject, wanting to draw them all away from the depressing thought of yet another dangerous teacher on the loose in Hogwarts. “Anyway, are you two coming around for the holidays?”   
  
       Hermione frowned. “I don’t know. My parents were saying something about taking a trip this Christmas …”   
  
       “I’ll definitely be there,” Ron cut in, grinning boyishly. “No way am I going to miss my chance to see Sirius and Sn— ” he was cut off by a sharp elbow to the ribs from his girlfriend, Hermione silently pointing out the many students passing by them in the hallway, and he sheepishly amended his near-mistake, “I mean, I don’t want to miss any of the fights. I’ve always wanted to see those two really duel it out.”   
  
       Harry glared at him. “No duels. That’s why I want everyone to come. I figure they’ll be less likely to yell at each other if there are plenty of witnesses around.” It was a fool’s hope, he knew, but maybe with Julian there to distract Sirius things would go more smoothly.   
  
       “Will Lisette and Rauko be there?” Hermione dodged a cobweb as they descended the last staircase leading into the dungeons. Unlike the noisy corridors of the upper floors, the dungeons were sunk in silence, hardly a student to be seen.   
  
       “I was going to ask her about it today,” Harry replied, glad that she’d reminded him of his plan.   
  
       They were passing near the Potions classroom and, on a whim, Harry steered them down the long hallway that passed by the room’s entrance. It was a weekend, so the odds were against Professor Lyr being in his office, but some natural impulse was guiding Harry’s steps and he’d learned long ago that repressing urges like this only made the feelings of compulsion worse.   
  
       “Why are we going this way?” Ron asked suddenly, just now realizing that they’d strayed from the normal path to Harry’s rooms.   
  
       “ _Hush_ ,” Hermione silenced him, then she grabbed Harry’s hand and forced him to stop. “Listen.”   
  
       Two voices, both male, drifted out through the half-open door of the Potions classroom. Harry, alone, could distinguish a few of the words with his sensitive hearing, but there were confusing gaps in what he could hear.   
  
       “ … you shouldn’t be here … why … like your … Xander?”   
  
       “Listen … special … for a … Don’t tell … know me.”   
  
       “ … favor? … friend? … Ministry know …”   
  
       Harry crept closer, eager for a complete sentence after such tantalizing fragments, but then the voices were too loud, too close, and he realized that the two people were leaving the classroom and were about to catch him in the act of eavesdropping. He quickly back-tracked to where Hermione and Ron were standing and tried to act as normal as possible when the classroom door swung open and Professor Lyr walked out …   
  
       … with his arm around the broad shoulders of a flushed and flustered Rhys Wynford.   
  
       At first, teacher and student were oblivious to their audience, and Professor Lyr gently turned Rhys to face him, touching one hand to the younger man’s cheek.   
  
       “Everything is going to be fine.” That faint Russian accent softened even more as he tilted Rhys’s chin upward, forcing Rhys to look him in the eyes. “You trust me, don’t you?”   
  
       “Of course I do,” was Rhys’s immediate reply, his cheeks burning with embarrassment or perhaps shame, “but I’m worried that …”   
  
       He caught sight of Harry out of the corner of his eye and instantly froze, all the color draining from his face as a frightened and guilty expression stole over his clean-cut, handsome features.   
  
       Professor Lyr dropped his hand to his side as he, too, turned to look at Harry. Their eyes met, only for a second, and in that moment Harry watched as the icy blue eyes of his professor shifted to a dark brown, then back again to blue in the next second. A lightning bolt of irrational fear slammed into Harry's gut and his hands went straight for his abdomen, this being his instinctive response to any kind of threat, real or imagined. He heard Severus call to him, as if from a distance, but Harry’s barriers were now firmly in place and he couldn’t find the strength of will to lower them just yet.   
  
       “Hello there, Professor. Hello, Wynford,” Ron said with a cheery wave, making an effort to distract their attention from Harry (who was still visibly disturbed by what he’d just witnessed, clutching his stomach as if in pain).   
  
       Rhys forced a smile and a nod, then took off at a brisk pace for the stairs leading out of the dungeons. Professor Lyr, regaining his composure after the shock of being caught unaware, smiled warmly at the three, though his gaze lingered on Harry’s pale face far longer than necessary. “Good afternoon to you, Mr. Weasley, and to Miss Granger and Mr. Potter as well. What brings you to the dungeons?”   
  
       “Just … walking,” Harry said, avoiding eye contact with Lyr, and without another word he started back the way they’d come, his long strides matching the hasty retreat that Rhys had made only minutes before.   
  
       “Oi! Harry, wait up!” Ron called after him, but Harry didn’t slow down until he’d reached the end of the hallway. As soon as he turned the corner, he leaned back against the cold stone wall to catch his breath. Ron was the first to find him, joined by Hermione shortly thereafter.   
  
       “Did you see that?” Harry forced out between gasps for air.   
  
       Ron peeked around the corner, looking to see if they’d been followed, then turned his attention back to Harry. “You mean the way he was all over Wynford? It’s shocking, I guess, but you really aren’t in a position to judge, Harry, since you – ”   
  
       “No, not that. His _eyes_ ,” Harry hissed, his entire body tense after such a shocking sight. He’d seen eyes change color like that with a Mori – but Professor Lyr was definitely no Mori, so what was he? “Did you see what happened to his eyes?”   
  
       His two friends glanced at each other, then back at Harry, obviously confused.   
  
       “There was nothing wrong with his eyes, Harry,” Ron said.   
  
       Hermione reached over and pressed her palm to Harry’s forehead. “You’re burning up. We should get you back to your room.”   
  
       “This isn’t some feverish delusion,” he insisted, brushing her hand away. “His eyes – they changed color!”   
  
       “We didn’t see anything like that, Harry.” Hermione folded her arms across her chest, firm in her stance that Professor Lyr’s eyes had remained blue the entire time.   
  
       Harry closed his eyes and willed his heart to slow its frantic beat. He could feel Severus beating at his barriers, demanding to be let in, but he persisted in keeping him at a distance. Once he let Severus in there’d be no way he could concentrate, and he needed his thoughts to himself right now. Had he really imagined the way Lyr’s eyes had blinked from blue to brown, then back again? If so, why had it scared him so much? _Am I just overreacting?_ he wondered. _Maybe it’s because Julian isn’t here with me …_   
  
       As if his thoughts had conjured him, Harry felt Julian’s presence invade his shadow and invisible arms seemed to wrap around his body in a comforting hug.   
  
       [What is it? Are you alright? Did someone try to hurt you?] Julian’s anxious questions were muffled by Harry’s barriers.   
  
       [I’m fine. It’s nothing.] He pushed away from the wall and started walking the short, twisting path back to his rooms, leaving Hermione and Ron to play catch-up behind him.   
  
       [Maybe you should open up to Severus before you walk inside,] Julian advised him warily.   
  
       The portrait of the panther was in sight now, and Harry walked a little faster, eager to be back within the safe walls of his rooms with Severus. He knew Julian was right and he should drop his barriers, but the loss of those barricades in his mind would leave him feeling vulnerable, and that wasn’t something he wanted to feel while still out in the open.   
  
       Julian tried to dissuade Harry from his current course of action, right up until they’d reached the portrait and the door that lay beyond it. [Really, Harry, you don’t understand. He’s in a terrible state right now and who knows how he’ll react when you – ]   
  
       Before Julian could finish, the portrait swung open and a long arm reached out to grasp Harry’s wrist and yank him inside the room. He found himself crushed against his lover’s chest, imprisoned in a fierce embrace as Severus held Harry tightly. His own feelings of fear and anxiety melted away under Severus's protective touch and he opened his mind now that he felt safe. Harry could sense the anger and confusion and panic that had consumed Severus since the moment he’d first felt Harry’s terror but had been powerless to do anything about it, and he realized what a horrible thing he’d done shutting him out of his mind like that.   
  
       [You stupid, stupid, _stupid_ boy,] Severus chastised him even as he continued to hold Harry close. [Why do you keep pushing me away? What if someone had hurt you?]   
  
       Julian left his shadowy hiding place and took a step towards the couple, but Severus lifted his head and glared daggers at him, warning Julian to back off. Hermione, having closed the door once everyone was inside, looked intrigued by this display of extreme possessiveness (by a non-Mori, no less), and she left Ron’s side to softly greet a forgotten Lisette, whose presence had yet to be acknowledged by anyone else.   
  
       Harry meekly allowed Severus to fully invade his mind, figuring it was the least he could do after blocking him not only once, but _twice_ in one day. He wrapped his arms around Severus’s neck, breathing deeply of his earthy scent. [I wasn’t in danger. Nothing happened.]   
  
       “Hermione says he has a fever, Severus. Let me see him.” Lisette bravely approached the pair, ignoring the fact that she received a glare identical to the one Severus had used on Julian. She held up her hands, palms facing out, in an age-old gesture of good faith. “You know I won’t hurt him. You can even hold him while I examine him, but I do need to be able to touch him. Will you allow that?”   
  
       Severus stared long and hard at her, his common sense at war with his emotions, but eventually he nodded and loosened his hold on Harry enough that he could maneuver them both over to the sofa, sitting down before drawing Harry into his lap, not once breaking physical contact with him.   
  
       “How long has he had a temperature?” Lisette asked Hermione, identifying her as the most likely informant on such matters.   
  
       “He was sick earlier and sweating a little, but I didn’t notice he was really feverish until after we ran into Professor Lyr in the hallway. Harry had something of a scare, and that’s when I noticed.”   
  
       Lisette smiled, rolling up the sleeves on her periwinkle blouse and pulling her long chesnut curls into a low ponytail. “He should be fine, then. Sometimes an intense reaction to danger manifests itself physically in a Mori, especially during delicate times like a breeding cycle or, in this case, pregnancy.”   
  
       Severus tensed up when Lisette drew closer, his lips pressed tightly into one thin line, but he made no move to stop her when she reached out and brushed the sweaty fringe from Harry’s forehead. She pressed her cool palm to his brow.   
  
       “Nothing serious,” she confirmed, her movements slow and deliberate as she next took Harry’s pulse, ever watchful of Severus’s expression in the few times that her gaze was not directly concentrated on Harry. “Well, Harry, your pulse is much faster than I’d like, but that can’t be helped. An hour or so in a dark room will fix that right up. Have you been eating properly?”   
  
       Harry never had a chance to answer the question himself, as everyone else in the room jumped in to give their own opinion on his eating habits.   
  
       “He usually skips breakfast,” Ron said.   
  
       Hermione nodded. “And when he doesn’t, he gets sick not long afterwards.”   
  
       “He does drink a lot of water,” Julian said in Harry’s defense, but then ruined it by saying, “though sometimes that’s all he’ll have all day.”   
  
       Severus tore himself away from nuzzling at Harry’s neck to add, “I always make sure he eats a complete meal in the evening, and he always cleans his plate.”   
  
       Harry squirmed grumpily in Severus’s lap. “You talk about me as if I were Dorian’s age.”   
  
       “Actually, Dorian isn’t as picky an eater as you are,” Severus pointed out with a smirk.   
  
       Lisette sat down on the edge of the coffee table, tapping her wand against Harry’s wrist, then against his chest, the wand tip glowing different colors in reaction to whatever part of Harry she was checking at any given time. “Lack of appetite during the day isn’t uncommon, but you’ll have to start eating more whether you want to or not. Pregnant males tend to get roly-poly rather fast, but you’re still stick thin – it’s not healthy for you or the baby. I’ll give you something for the nausea, but the rest of it is up to you, Harry.”   
  
       He nodded, still trapped against Severus’s body with no sign that he would be released any time soon. Not that Harry was complaining.   
  
       “Why don’t you take him into the bedroom,” Lisette was saying to Severus as she drew out her wand, “and help him to get relaxed. I’ll be in soon to give him a proper exam.” She scooted back so Severus could stand up. He hoisted Harry into his arms rather than allowing him to stand on his own two feet.   
  
       “Hey! I can walk, you know,” Harry protested, red-faced with embarrassment at the way Severus was carrying him bridal-style into the bedroom, ever-mindful of the fact that his two best friends, his appointed guardian, and his doctor were all witnesses to his humiliation.   
  
       “Not after I get through with you tonight,” Severus threatened in that black-velvet voice of his, though the promise of punishment had the opposite effect on Harry than one might expect, his temperature shooting up to feverish heights once more but for an entirely different reason.   
  
       “This is what you call helping me relax?” Harry chided him, though he did feel pleasantly pampered as Severus gently laid him down on the bed and began to unbutton Harry’s gray, woolen coat.   
  
       Severus made no reply, deftly removing the coat from Harry’s body with practiced ease, no doubt a result of his experience tending to Dorian. His fingertips grazed the hollow of Harry’s throat before he moved on to the task of removing Harry’s shoes. He was tender and attentive and Harry was starting to think something was wrong – any other time, Severus would have at least attempted to grope him, but he was treating Harry as if he was fine china, too fragile to be handled roughly.   
  
       _But I like it when he’s rough_ , the thought danced through Harry’s troubled mind.   
  
       Severus raised his head, watching Harry with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes, but then he gave a sort of half-smile and slid his hand up Harry’s thigh, over the waistband of his trousers, underneath the hand-knitted jumper, and rested his warm palm directly over Harry's stomach, a burst of happiness triggered in Harry’s mind by the light touch of Severus’s hand.   
  
       [You are so precious to me.] Severus sat down on the bed next to Harry, facing him as he continued to stroke calming circles over Harry’s stomach. [Both of you. If anything were to happen …] A shadow crossed his face, a glint of pain in his beetle-black eyes.   
  
       [Nothing is going to happen.] The words were an empty promise – both of them knew it, even if Harry wished it was otherwise – but Harry’s endless optimism had to be enough to sustain them both through these uncertain days. He truly believed that as long as he was with Severus, nothing bad would happen – or if it did, they would survive it, just as they had survived every other obstacle thrown at them.   
  
       A soft rap at the door interrupted any further discussion between the two. Lisette entered the room with an apologetic smile, a small black bag clutched in one hand.   
  
       “I will try to make this as quick and painless as possible,” she said, placing the bag on the nightstand. “Examination of the fetus through traditional magical means is not an option until Harry is at least sixteen weeks along – a pregnant Mori is extraordinarily magic-resistant in the first few months – so all I can do for now is chart the baby’s mental growth and see if I can detect any potential problems in its development. Over the holidays, I want to do a full examination. There’s a clinic in London with Mori affiliations so we could use their medical equipment, but this will do for now.”   
  
       She directed Severus to reclaim his seat on the bed next to Harry, urging them both to make themselves comfortable. “Harry, I’m going to put you to sleep for a while. I know it sounds strange, but your first instinct will be to protect your child, and you won’t let me anywhere near the baby’s mind while you’re still awake. Fortunately for you, this entire exam will just seem like a short nap. Sound good?”  
  
       Harry chuckled. “Sure, I could use a nap.”   
  
       “Excellent.” Lisette pulled up a chair next to the bed, as careful as ever not to move too quickly around Severus, then placing her wand in her lap, she reached out to place her right hand over Harry’s chest. She frowned when her fingertips bumped into the moonstone that lay hidden beneath Harry’s jumper, but then understanding dawned in her expression and she smiled wistfully, repositioning her hand so the moonstone lay untouched.   
  
       “I don’t have my husband’s proficiency in hypnotism, so I’ll have to use a spell to make you sleep. Are you both okay with that?” She was being exceedingly patient in explaining every step of the procedure, but Harry had a feeling that it was Severus’s misgivings that she wanted to appease, not Harry’s.   
  
       Severus nodded and Harry happily followed suit, eager to be done with the exam so he could hear what Lisette had to say regarding the baby’s health.   
  
       She laughed at Harry’s enthusiasm, even more so when his grin persisted in spite of the way his eyelids drooped and his breathing slowed. Her softly chanted ‘sleeping pill’ worked quickly to send him to dreamland, a welcome darkness surrounding him, but then color and sound and light broke back into his mind and he became aware of another presence near him, of something smooth and solid curling itself around his arm, and of a small tickle against his skin that seemed to come and go in the same rhythm as his breathing.   
  
       “I don’t think the spell worked,” Harry’s speech was thick and slurred, and from what seemed like miles away he could hear the echo of Lisette’s musical Scottish brogue, followed by the soothing baritone that was distinctly Severus, but no words reached him, only the formless but familiar sound of their voices.   
  
       _What’s on my arm?_ he wondered, his mind spinning in this dizzy half-conscious state he’d found himself in. He tried to sit up but his body felt weighed down and unnaturally heavy. He managed to tilt his head so he could get a better look at his arm, but all he saw was a coil of dark green wrapped around his pale skin. He squinted his eyes, trying to bring the picture into focus, then gasped as the coil began to move, that soft tickle trailing higher and higher along his skin, and what had looked like shiny green rope now revealed its true nature to Harry’s panicking mind.   
  
       _A snake?_ He closed his eyes, willing the vision away, but the sensations remained. He couldn’t move, couldn’t reach up and pull the snake away from his arm, and his helplessness made the knots in his stomach tighten. His mind screamed at him that this was Voldemort trying to slither into his mind and take control, but his deeper instinct told him to stay calm –   
  
       _Harry._   
  
       A soft voice – not Lisette, not Severus, but achingly familiar to Harry – touched his mind and brought his panic to an abrupt end.   
  
       _It’s almost over, Harry. Just a little longer._   
  
       The snake’s tongue flicked against his skin, that strange tickle from before, but he didn’t feel repulsion or fear anymore as he watched the dark green reptile wind its way further up his arm.   
  
       _He won’t hurt you,_ the voice promised, and Harry had no choice but to believe it.   
  
       “But his tongue tickles,” Harry complained drowsily, sinking further and further back into the black void of true slumber, and his last conscious thought was to wonder why the snake hadn't said a word to him the entire time … 

 


	43. Sibling Rivalry

 

       Harry woke to a dark room and a soft snore. Severus and Lisette were nowhere in sight, but a tuckered-out Dorian had been placed beside him in the bed and was now sleeping soundly with one hand attached to Harry’s sleeve and the other hand holding onto his treasured stuffed giraffe, Geoffrey.  
  
       _How long was I asleep?_ Harry felt refreshed and energetic, the opposite of his usual mid-day slump. _Is it night already?_  
  
       Dorian stirred, rolling closer to Harry, and the blanket of shadows that covered the bed swayed and settled in harmony with his restless movements. He abandoned his hold on Geoffrey, preferring to get a two-handed grasp on Harry’s arm, and he rubbed his cheek against the fleecy material of Harry's jumper before sighing contentedly and falling back into a deep sleep.   
  
       The way Dorian hugged his arm reminded Harry of the strange vision he’d experienced during the first few minutes of his exam. He could remember being aware of Lisette and Severus talking, though their voices were like muffled music, near enough to be heard but too distant for him to comprehend words and phrases. Had he really been asleep at the time? And the snake that crept up his arm in slow, winding circles – was that a vision? Or something else? He pictured it in his mind – dark green, almost black, with smooth scales and obsidian eyes, and he could practically feel its cool weight against his skin and the tiny tongue that darted out to tickle his elbow. It _must_ have been a dream, since he’d felt the snake against his bare skin without that protective layer of the jumper between his arm and the reptile’s body. But what could such a vision possibly mean?   
  
       _There was a voice, too,_ he recalled, but he couldn’t match a name or a face to what he’d heard. He knew it had been a woman’s voice, but he couldn’t pin it down to a specific person. He stared at the ceiling, eyes narrowed in concentration, but still the answer eluded him.   
  
       _Maybe it was Lisette after all_ , he concluded. The voice had told him _‘it’s almost over,’_ so it was possible that he’d simply heard Lisette talking about the exam. He chewed at his lower lip, not quite prepared to dismiss what he’d seen and heard so easily, and after a few minutes of thoughtful silence he decided to get some answers from the two people who’d been with him throughout the entire exam.   
  
       _But keep it light_ , he counseled himself, self-doubt taking root as he reflected on his over-reaction to Professor Lyr outside the Potions classroom. _No sense in worrying everyone if it turns out to be nothing._   
  
       He sucked in a deep breath and jumped right in, immersing himself in Severus's thoughts, but only so far as necessary for him to speak with him. He enjoyed how open Severus had been these past few weeks, and he didn’t want to overstep his bounds and disturb their newfound intimacy.   
  
       [So much for just a ‘short nap,’] he pressed the wry observation into Severus’s mind. [Why didn’t you two wake me up when the exam was over?]   
  
       Silence.   
  
       [Severus?] He knew Severus could hear him; his mind lay completely open to Harry, and there was no way he could block out Harry’s voice without Harry realizing it. [Severus, answer me.]   
  
       A dizzy, delightful feeling of lightness washed over Harry, followed by Severus’s unedited thoughts, slurred together at times: _awakehe’sawake and must get up up up feetwon’tworkwhy? and where did they put my Harry minehe’sminehe’s going to have a baby ohfuckohfuck I’m going to be a father like **him**? no no notlike **him** I’m notlike **him** no never …_   
  
       Harry pulled back, disoriented by the whirling chaos of his Severus’s thoughts. He lay there, stunned, trying to figure out what was wrong. It was as if there were absolutely no filters in Severus's mind, so everything he was thinking just spilled out in one messy stream.   
  
       “Has he been _drinking?_ ”   
  
       Harry started to get up, but Dorian whimpered in his sleep and squeezed Harry’s arm tighter, as if refusing to be left behind. Harry didn’t want to risk waking him, but neither could he just lay there calmly without knowing what had happened to Severus. Gently, he disentangled his arm from Dorian’s hands so he could slide off the bed and stand up, then he picked up the sleeping child and carried him in his arms over to the bedroom door.   
  
       Just as he reached out for the doorknob, he heard Lisette’s voice in his mind.   
  
       [You need to stay put, Harry. I’ll be in to check on you in a few minutes.]   
  
       [What’s wrong with Severus?]   
  
       There was a short pause, followed by Lisette’s exasperated reply, [He and Julian were arguing, and I decided it would be best to give him something to calm him down. I fear the potion I gave him worked a little too well. I've grown too accustomed to treating Mori and not humans. The worst of it should wear off soon, so just sit tight and we’ll have our talk as soon as I’m finished in here.]   
  
       [Wait, what were they arguing about?] Harry had witnessed a few minor arguments between Severus and Julian, but he couldn’t imagine them fighting to the point where Severus needed to be drugged into submission.   
  
       Again, Lisette’s reply came after a stretch of thoughtful silence, as if she were deciding exactly how much she should reveal to Harry about what had occurred during his nap. [It is … _complicated_ , Harry. I will explain everything, I promise, but I must ask you to be patient.]   
  
       Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing to slits of gleaming jade. Why did he always have to wait to be told something? A little instant gratification now and then wouldn’t kill him. The only thing that kept him from storming out of the bedroom and demanding answers ‘ _right-bloody-now_ ’ was the sleeping fledgling in his arms. He answered in a gruff tone, [Fine, but you’d better tell me absolutely everything.]  
  
       [I won’t leave a single sentence out,] she assured him, and then he was left alone with his thoughts and a return of Dorian’s light snore.   
  
       He tucked the child back into bed, but he found himself too alert and too tense to just lie down beside him and wait. Instead, he summoned his bag, choosing homework as a suitable distraction. Digging around in his bag, he thought he was pulling out his Charms textbook but instead he pulled out the thick black envelope that had been sitting at the bottom of his schoolbag since the day he’d returned to Hogwarts.   
  
       Harry stared at his mysterious ‘inheritance’ for several seconds, wavering in his resolve. He itched to toss aside his homework in favor of opening the long-sealed envelope, longing to discover exactly what Severus had left to him – and _why_. It was the ‘why’ of it all that provoked Harry into putting his bag away before sitting down on the bed (gingerly, so as not to disturb Dorian) and breaking the envelope’s Ministry seal.   
  
       Inside the envelope were a hand-written letter, an official-looking document stamped with various seals, and a small golden key. Harry focused on the letter first, a fluttery feeling of excitement building in his stomach as he began to read:   
  
  
**_Harry,  
  
       You may well wonder why I am addressing you so casually. In fact, I can imagine at this very minute the tiny crease forming between your eyebrows as you think to yourself, “What right does Snape have to go calling me by my first name?”   
  
       Well, get over it. I’m dead now, and I think it’s high time we drop these formalities._**   
  
  
       “Vintage Severus.” Harry chuckled to himself, secretly pleased that Severus knew him well enough to imagine exactly how Harry might have reacted to the letter had thecircumstances been different. He felt as if he was being granted rare insight into Severus's state of mind during that turbulent time when Voldemort had first returned.   
  
  
       **_By the time you are reading this, you will have learned that I named you as my sole inheritor in the event of my death. How I wish I could have seen your face when you heard. You are always giving yourself away in your expression – it is a bad habit, Potter, and one you should break immediately – but circumstances being what they are, I am robbed of the personal pleasure of seeing you rendered blessedly speechless.  
  
       Do not assume that I made this decision lightly. I did not choose you out of pity for your situation, nor am I attempting to repair past mistakes I may have made in my treatment of you. No, my sole motivation is to ensure that you have every advantage in this war. For as long as I live I will protect you and teach you, but I must consider the future. The Dark Lord has returned, and I will once again play the dutiful follower. Should I fail in this task I fear that you will become little more than a pawn in a much larger game. I am leaving you such tools as will help you become powerful in your own right, independent of Albus. He means well, but he has a war to win. He would not hesitate to sacrifice you, Harry, regardless of how much he cares for you.   
  
       Included with this letter are a key and the deed to my home. Sell the house. I have no love for it, and its location is known to many Death Eaters, including the Dark Lord himself. The key opens my vault in Gringotts. Give any items you have no use for to the school. I would ask, however, that you keep my books in your possession and treat them with respect. I won’t go so far as to hope you might actually open one to try and learn something, but I would prefer that they remain with you, regardless.   
  
       I have never hated you, Harry. These cold, stilted lines seem inadequate to convince you of my sincerity and I realize, even as I write this, that the distance between us will most likely never lessen, but it is important for me to correct your impression of my feelings, whether you believe me or not. I have known, even before we met, that you would be a source of torment in my life. I can see you scowling now, thinking that I have just insulted you – but you will find that torment is not always the pain we inflict on others. Sometimes, it is the pain we inflict on ourselves when we want the impossible.   
  
       Keep Granger close. Weasley, too, if he can learn to hold his tongue and his temper. I would tell you not to be reckless, but you seem determined to throw yourself head-long into trouble, so I will only ask that you take those two with you if you decide to do something foolish. I can’t say I like the idea of your godfather remaining in your life, but knowing Black he’ll probably get himself killed before too long anyway, so I won’t waste any more ink on him. Listen to the Headmaster, but don’t let yourself be ruled by him. Your life belongs to you, Harry, not to Albus. Never follow blindly.   
  
       Learn to control your emotions, and loosen your wrist when blocking. I’ve noticed a tightness there that sometimes slows you down. Keep your eyes open – you’re a visual learner for the most part, and you catch on quickly. Use this to your advantage. A truly proficient dueler can take an enemy’s spell and turn it against him.   
  
       One more thing. There is a picture tucked in along with the deed. On the back of this picture, you will find a name and an address. It is imperative that you write to that person and tell her of what has happened. She is someone you can trust with your life, and she will give you a protection that neither Albus nor I could ever provide for you. Aside from the person in the photograph, she has been my only true friend._**   
  
  
       _He must mean Aiya_ , Harry thought, though he was curious to see who would be in this photograph that Severus mentioned.   
  
  
       **_Try not to get yourself killed. I’d hate for all my hard work in keeping you alive to be for nothing. And for Merlin’s sake, quit wandering the halls at night.  
  
Sincerely,   
Severus Snape   
  
P.S. – I am not joking, Potter. Curfews exist for a reason._**   
  
  
       “It’s nice to know that some things haven’t changed,” Harry muttered. It amused him that, even as long as three years ago, Severus had been worried about Harry's tendency to sneak around the castle after hours. He reverently re-folded the letter and tucked it and the golden key back inside the envelope for safekeeping, then turned his attention to the thickest bundle of parchment, heavily creased and yellowed with age, the deed to Severus’s home.   
  
       “Spinner’s End?” He squinted his eyes at all the legal jargon and fine print, then flipped through the document’s pages until he found a single photograph with Aiya’s name and a Paris address written on the back in Severus’s elegant script.   
  
       _But she moved so much, lived in so many places – how did he know she’d still be there?_ Harry ran his finger over the ink, then blinked as the address changed ever-so-slightly, the previous location of **_Rue Mayet_** melting away to be replaced by **_Gare Montparnasse_** , one of the city’s major train stations.   
  
       Harry stared, unbelieving, at the revised address. His hand nearly shook with excitement as he brushed his thumb over Severus’s handwriting again. Instantly, the name of the station was replaced by **_The Six O’Clock Train To Rennes_**.   
  
       _It’s tracking her_ , he realized. He now knew exactly where Aiya and Draco were, and where they were headed. He brought the photo up to his nose and breathed deeply – the spelled ink gave off only the faintest lingering scent, but enough for Harry to pinpoint his sister as the one whose magic had imprinted her ever-changing location onto the paper. _She must have given it to Severus so he could always find her if he needed her. If Rauko knew about this …_  
  
       Harry didn’t finish the thought, afraid that simply thinking of Rauko would summon him into Harry’s mind where this latest secret would be easily extracted. He traced his fingertip over the ink one last time, smiling when the address continued to mention the train, now with a seat number. It astounded him that something he’d thought would be useless had turned into a possession of immeasurable worth for him. He wondered why Severus hadn’t mentioned the photograph before, but perhaps he had forgotten about it.   
  
       “Who is that?”   
  
       Harry blinked, startled out of his private musings by the unexpected question. Dorian, awake but groggy, was rubbing the sleep from one eye with the back of his hand while pointing at the picture that Harry held.   
  
       “This is – ” Harry faltered as he turned the picture over, struck dumb by the photo’s haunting image.   
  
       The girl in the picture – static, frozen in time by Muggle film – couldn’t have been much older than ten, her dark red hair pulled back in a single ponytail, her green eyes bright with laughter. She wore a dandelion-yellow sundress and, though she faced towards the camera, her eyes were glancing over to the side at a person just out of sight. She stood with one hand outstretched, her fingers curled around her shy companion’s slender wrist, the only visible sign that anyone else was supposed to be in the picture.   
  
       “This _was_ … my mother.” Harry forced himself to smile as he showed the picture to Dorian again. “This picture was taken when she was a little girl.”  
  
       Dorian wiggled out from under the covers and crawled into Harry’s lap, sensing Harry's distress even though Harry tried valiantly to hide it. As young as Dorian was, he’d learned enough of sorrow and loss in his short life to connect Harry’s sudden sadness to the girl in the picture. “Did she go away, like Daddy and Mummy and Melly?”   
  
       Harry let Dorian hold the photo, answering quietly, “Yes, she’s gone.”   
  
       “Does she talk to you, like Daddy talks to me?” He looked up at Harry, his ocean-blue eyes bright with innocent curiosity.   
  
       “No, not exactly,” Harry said hesitantly, not sure how to explain the difference between a Mori death and a human death. Instead, he provided an example that Dorian could understand.   
  
       “Actually, our mothers are a lot alike – they live inside us,” he said, gently tapping his finger against Dorian’s chest, directly over his heart. “We can’t hear them, but we know they’re with us.”   
  
       The little boy nodded, a smile beaming on his lips. He handed the picture back to Harry, then snuggled against his chest, enjoying the deep connection that had developed between them since first meeting, a feeling of warmth and security that he’d only ever felt with his parents and his sister, but now experienced with the two men who’d adopted him as their own.   
  
       “Should I ask Severus to read us a bedtime story tonight?” Harry asked, knowing how much Dorian loved to have Severus read to him. He figured that the best way to distract Dorian from the subject of mothers and death and silence was to mention storytime and Severus in the same sentence – that combination never failed to sidetrack Dorian from whatever awkward question he’d asked Harry that he couldn’t answer. Sure enough, Dorian eagerly agreed with Harry’s suggestion.   
  
       _Though I’m going to have to learn how to deal with all these questions if I’m going to be a proper parent_. Harry sighed, pressing a kiss to Dorian’s dark curls. In the back of his mind, he was dealing with questions of his own, still reeling from the shock of seeing his mother in that photograph. Why did Severus have that picture? Did that mean he and Lily were friends once?   
  
       _He called her ‘mudblood’ in that memory I saw,_ Harry sifted through what little he could remember of that unfortunate glimpse into Severus’s angst-ridden adolescence. _But she did stick up for him at first. And he’s never said anything bad about her to me. In fact, he never even mentions her …_   
  
       He didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on this latest development for long as Dorian reclaimed his attention and roped Harry into retelling the story of the time he’d outwitted the evil Lucius and freed the house-elf Dobby.   
  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  
  
       “You resisted my best sleeping spell for several minutes,” Lisette said as she drizzled honey into a steaming cup of hot tea. She’d arrived not long after ‘storytime’ ended, sending Dorian off to his own room so she could talk to Harry privately. “I’ve been anesthetizing patients magically for decades, and never once has a witch or wizard managed to stay even partially awake after I put them under. You were only semi-conscious, of course, but aware enough of your surroundings to speak – you clearly told me that you didn’t think the spell had worked, then you were quiet for some time, and just before you fell asleep, you said ‘ _but his tongue tickles._ ’ Can you remember what you meant by that?”   
  
       She carefully handed Harry the cup of tea, then sat down on the edge of the bed. Harry took a small sip of the tea and grimaced – not even an entire bottle of honey could cover the acrid herbal aftertaste – but he dutifully swallowed that bitter mouthful before responding to Lisette’s question.   
  
       “I think I had another vision. There was a snake on my arm – it was his tongue that tickled me – and I panicked, but then I heard a voice telling me he wouldn’t hurt me, and for some reason I wasn’t afraid anymore. At first, I thought the snake was Voldemort, but …” He shrugged, unable to explain why all his fears had disappeared upon hearing that mysterious voice, nor could he begin to imagine who the snake represented if it wasn’t his arch-enemy.   
  
       Lisette didn’t look worried by Harry’s explanation; in fact, she seemed intrigued by it. “How did you know the snake was male? Did it talk to you? Or was it the voice who told you?”   
  
       “The voice told me.”   
  
       “And this voice – was it male or female?”   
  
       “Definitely female.”   
  
       “Was it a familiar voice?”   
  
       Harry nodded. “I know I’ve heard it before, but I just can’t place it.”   
  
       “Well, one thing we can be certain of is that a pushy spirit is not the culprit here.” Lisette smiled as she ruled out the usual suspects. “Mori spirits never interfere with a vision. They might warn you of it, or they might try to explain it afterwards, but they never provide running commentary.”   
  
       Harry wasn’t exactly comforted by her words. If not a Mori spirit, then who or _what_ had been whispering so softly in his head?   
  
       “If you see this snake again, I think you should try talking to it,” Lisette continued, “but don’t let it worry you. Normally, I’m not the least bit precognitive, but during my pregnancy I had several strange visions, including a recurring dream of being back in Scotland, standing in the same meadow I’d played in as a child. There were wild violets growing everywhere – violets were always my favorite flower – and so I chose _helin_ as my daughter’s Elvish name.”   
  
       She smiled at the memory, adding wistfully, “I like to think that it was Aiyana herself who inspired those dreams.”   
  
       A knock at the door brought the conversation to a halt. Lisette insisted Harry remain on the bed while she saw to their visitor, and after a minute of hushed whispering through a crack in the door, she opened it completely to reveal a sheepish Julian. Shirt untucked, hair mussed, and sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek, he didn’t try to enter the room, seeming to make a point of standing on the opposite side of the door’s threshold.   
  
       “Do you feel up to moving into the sitting room, Harry? That potion is wearing off, and I don’t fancy going another round with Severus over why I’m ‘hiding’ you from him.”   
  
       “He’s still hostile, then?” Lisette looked more worried by Julian’s news than she’d been by Harry’s mention of the snake.   
  
       Julian fingertips ghosted over the bruise on his cheek. “I’ve seen him in better moods.”   
  
       “Did he _hit_ you? Why?” Harry scrambled off the bed, rushing towards the door so he could get a better look at Julian’s face, but before he could get too close, Lisette grabbed his arm and held him back.   
  
       “You mustn’t touch him,” she warned Harry, then she turned to Julian with a sigh. “Go and stay with Dorian for now. I’ll let you know when it’s appropriate for you to come back out.”   
  
       “Are you going to convince him to – ”   
  
       “Yes.” Lisette cut off Julian’s question with a curt reply, but her tone softened at the hangdog expression that crossed Julian's face. “I know this isn’t your fault, Julian, but your condition isn’t helping matters. You should have alerted me as soon as you felt the first symptoms. Do you think you can suppress the worst of it until the holidays?”   
  
       “Of course,” he answered with unshakeable confidence. He sounded somewhat offended that Lisette would even ask him such a question.   
  
       She apologized with a gentle smile, reaching out to straighten his crooked collar. “What a miserable Christmas for you, Julian. I do sympathize with you, truly.”   
  
       “What are you two talking about?” Harry folded his arms across his chest, his eyes darkening to stony jade. “Would someone just explain to me what’s going on?”   
  
       “Severus is being territorial,” Julian said without hesitation, never one to hold back on answering Harry’s questions, though he avoided looking directly into Harry’s eyes. “And I’m only making things worse, which is why I need to duck out of sight for now.”   
  
       “Yes. Go,” Lisette said, waving Julian away. “I’ll tell Harry everything he needs to know, and we’ll fetch you when things are settled.”   
  
       “ _Amin naa lle nai_ ,” Julian said, capturing Lisette’s hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, then winking at her before saying a quiet farewell to them both.   
  
       “He calls that ‘suppressing’ it?” Lisette’s cheeks blushed a rosy pink as she closed the bedroom door. She fanned her face, her resemblance to Aiya more prominent now that she had lost her clinical composure, and Harry found himself choking back a laugh at seeing Lisette so flustered by Julian’s harmless flirtation.   
  
       “He’s as bad as Rauko,” she muttered in a very males-can-be-so-irritating sort of way, twisting a lock of chestnut hair around her finger, but then she shook herself and turned to Harry, professional once more.   
  
       “What you witnessed today – Severus’s possessiveness, his refusal to let Julian anywhere near you, his initial reluctance to even let me examine you – these are _not_ normal human reactions. Not to that extreme, at any rate.”   
  
       Harry nodded. “He acts like a Mori. I’ve noticed it, too.”   
  
       “It’s not that simple.” Lisette paused, eyes narrowed in concentration as she organized her thoughts; she laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Severus is changing, mentally if not physically. The connection you share is deep enough that it is profoundly re-shaping the way Severus thinks and feels, and his brain is processing emotions and instincts that are completely foreign to him. With such an unstable mind, he can become paranoid and irrational during times of duress, as we all saw today.”   
  
       Harry stared at her, dumbfounded. “Are you saying he’s going crazy?”   
  
       “What I’m saying,” Lisette spoke calmly, sedately, reaching up to stroke Harry’s hair in a motherly gesture, “is that Severus needs to be turned, and soon. I can prepare the necessary potion and Julian has already consented to be the blood donor; all we need now is for you and Severus to agree.”   
  
       “What if he says no?” Harry didn’t bother to include himself in that equation; if it were up to him, Severus would have been turned weeks ago.   
  
       Lisette sighed. “There are some medicines I can give him, but they are just temporary relief. The only other permanent solution is to separate you two and force the connection to weaken that way, but it would be painful for you both – and I certainly don’t recommend such a course of action while you are pregnant. It might break Severus’s bond to the baby.”   
  
       Harry placed his hands over his stomach, painfully reminded of when he’d held Melony’s lifeless body in his arms. She’d been nearly a year old when she’d died of a broken connection to her mother – what chance did his unborn child have if something similar were to happen?   
  
       “So when he hit Julian … that was because of me?” Harry was still trying to understand what had happened during his long nap.   
  
       “Likely so,” Lisette said. “He seems inclined to the Shadowclaw bloodline, and Shadowclaws are notoriously territorial; you came in wearing Julian’s scent, and Severus mentioned that he has been forced to use Julian to contact you on several occasions, so that probably triggered some jealousy on his part. That’s why I didn’t want you touching Julian and getting more of his scent on you – the less fuel to add to the fire, the better.”   
  
       “But he knows Julian isn’t interested in me,” Harry protested. Where had all of Severus’s cold logic and limitless self-control disappeared to? “And he hates the idea of Julian and Sirius, so that shows he cares about him - if Julian wasn’t important to him, he wouldn’t care who he got involved with … ”   
  
       Lisette laughed and brushed Harry’s hair out of his eyes. “It’s no use trying to reason it out, Harry. That’s just my point. His behavior is irrational. Anyway, those two were arguing all afternoon about more than just you, so I don’t think this is a permanent falling-out. Think of it as mere sibling rivalry.”   
  
       “Is this ever going to get any easier?” He looked at her with a weary expression in his mossy-green eyes.   
  
       “Being a Mori?” Lisette canted her head to one side, a wry smile on her lips. “Yes, I can safely say that it does get easier. Life, on the other hand … well, I can’t give you any guarantees about that.”   
  
       Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, his emotions on edge. He wondered how much of his anxiety stemmed from his connection to Severus, his apprehension bleeding through to taint Harry’s own perceptions. He never fully comprehended how much fear and doubt clouded Severus's heart until those emotions were freed by Lisette’s potion, unleashed from the iron-bar prison of the deepest recesses of Severus’s mind. Severus hid so much from him – was it to protect Harry? Or was it self-preservation? Harry didn’t like the idea of Severus hiding _anything_ from him, no matter the reason.   
  
       Lisette gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze, smiling at him with all the gentle reassurance he’d formerly counted on from her daughter, but Harry couldn’t help but wish that Aiya were here in person to comfort him.   
  
       “Now,” Lisette said, opening the bedroom door, “I think it’s time we all three sat down together and talked about the future.”   
  
  


* * * * * * *

  
  
  
       “Remind me to never drink anything you offer me ever again,” Severus snapped as Lisette walked into the sitting room. “I’d feel safer drinking one of Longbottom’s disastrous creations than anything you – ”   
  
       He broke off when he saw Harry trailing behind her, still slightly dazed from all the revelations of the day. Severus stood up, his appearance mirroring what they’d seen of Julian’s disheveled state: shirt half-tucked, pants wrinkled, dark hair uncombed and disorderly. His black eyes burned as they narrowed in on Harry’s pale face.   
  
       “Did you sleep well?”   
  
       Severus’s voice betrayed none of the desperation and alarm that had plagued his thoughts during his potion-induced stupor, nor did he sound like the irrational creature Lisette had deemed him to be, but Harry could detect how forced Severus’s composure truly was, if only because he could feel the aftershocks of that near-forgotten fear through their shared connection. His only consolation was that those tremors were diminishing with each step he took towards Severus’s side.   
  
       “Very well, thanks,” Harry replied with a grin, allowing his expression to brighten in the hopes that he could wipe that worried look off of Severus’s face.   
  
       “Why don’t you both have a seat,” Lisette resumed her role of family physician, claiming the armchair across from the couch so she could address them both face to face. She waited until they were settled (Severus reluctantly allowed Harry his own seat rather than forcing him back into his lap) before continuing. “First, I want to discuss the results of the exam.”   
  
       Harry leaned forward, shoulders tense.   
  
       “Your child has an exceptional mind, and development is coming along nicely. The baby is very responsive to mental stimulation, which is highly unusual at this stage of growth, but it is no cause for alarm. I suggest you both talk to the baby as much as possible – it helps strengthen your bond and it encourages further development.”  
  
       “So everything was fine?” Harry just wanted a healthy baby – anything beyond that was icing on the cake.   
  
       Lisette hesitated; Harry’s hands clenched.   
  
       “The baby exhibits a fear of sunlight that is, for obvious reasons, surprising from an unborn Mori,” she said. “This could be something he or she has picked up from Harry’s recent sunsickness, or it could be the warning signs of a more serious problem. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I would like Harry to limit his exposure to direct sunlight as drastically as possible. If I could keep him in absolute darkness until the baby is born, I would, but that’s not practical … so less than an hour of direct sunlight a day would probably be sufficient.”   
  
       Harry rubbed soothing circles over his stomach, disturbed by Lisette’s cautionary recommendation. What if his child had some sun-related disease, like Julian?   
  
       “Yes,” Lisette answered Harry’s unspoken question, “it could be hemeralopia. It is a common affliction among the Mori.”   
  
       Severus, silent since first sitting down, now roused himself enough to ask, “Is there a potion to prevent or correct this defect?”   
  
       Lisette smiled. “Don’t look at it as a defect. All Mori are allergic to sunlight in some form. While hemeralopia can be crippling in severe cases, most of the cases are mild and easily treated with a special blend of herbs. As for preventative measures, a steady diet of solanine-rich plants would be helpful.”   
  
       Severus nodded numbly; his mind seemed to be elsewhere, and he was constantly reassuring himself of Harry’s presence with little touches here and there, casual and fleeting, but reminiscent of the Mori need for physical contact when upset or troubled.   
  
       Harry hadn’t fully believed Lisette’s claims until now - he’d never seen Severus so distracted. He reached for his hand and clasped it warmly with his own.   
  
       Severus glanced up at him, one brow raised in query.   
  
       “I think it’s time you were turned,” Harry said. He clutched at Severus's hand a little tighter. “It doesn’t make sense to keep putting it off – you’re not spying anymore, and the wizarding world thinks you’re dead anyway. Why wait any longer?”   
  
       Lisette leaned back in her chair, wisely removing herself from the discussion. After the ‘drugging’ incident she’d fallen out of favor with Severus, so she decided it was best that Harry try and win Severus over on his own.   
  
       “Why this all of a sudden?” Severus frowned, clearly suspicious.   
  
       _Well, that’s better than an outright ‘no,’_ Harry thought, and he pressed forward, careful not to think too hard about what Lisette had told him about the instability of Severus’s mind since he doubted Severus would be too pleased to learn of it.   
  
       “You promised Rauko you would do it one day, remember?” he waited for Severus’s nod before adding, “Then why not do it now? It would be as much for your benefit as it would be for mine; I would feel safer knowing you were protected, and you wouldn’t be forced to stay in these rooms all the time.”   
  
       When Severus didn’t immediately agree, Harry dangled a different prize in front of him.   
  
       “We wouldn’t have to be apart during the day,” he murmured into his ear. “You could take Julian’s place as my shadow.”   
  
       The risk of mentioning Julian’s name paid off for Harry, as Severus’s eyes brightened at the thought of usurping his soon-to-be brother’s role as Harry’s protector. Yet … Severus’s mind wasn’t so unstable that he couldn’t tell when he was being manipulated …   
  
       “Taking a page from Rauko’s book, are you?” he whispered back, a pleased grin curving his lips when Harry scowled at bring compared to the calculating ‘puppet master’ whose schemes had all lead to this very outcome: Severus’s turning.   
  
       “I’ll agree,” he said in his normal voice, pointedly bringing Lisette back into the conversation as his inky gaze fell on her, “as long as I am allowed to prepare the potion _myself_.”   
  
       Lisette didn’t take offense at this slight to her potion-making abilities. Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “I am more than willing to leave that chore to you, Severus.”   
  
       He smirked, then leaned over to steal a kiss from Harry’s lips before saying, “I’ll decide how you can repay me for this later.”   
  
       “The outcome should be its own reward,” Harry said stiffly, still miffed over the Rauko comparison. He didn’t notice when Lisette tactfully excused herself, his gaze devoted to the man whose hand was now stealing across his waist to pull him closer.   
  
       “You know me better than that,” Severus taunted him.   
  
       Harry’s eyes hooded, his mind leaping in several directions at once – to the letter, to the photograph, to the repressed anguish of Severus's thoughts only an hour ago – but he smiled anyway, not sure if he was lying or not when he replied, “Yes …”   
  
       “... I know you better than anyone else.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **Amin naa lle nai** – I am yours to command


	44. Restraint

 

       _**In a race known for its astonishingly rapid rate of evolution, those Mori born of the Shadowclaw bloodline appear to exhibit the same feral, animalistic traits that marked the behavior of their farthest-reaching ancestors (Blackwings, it has been said, also share these ‘primitive’ instincts).**_  
  
       “‘It has been said’? _Who_ said?” Harry scribbled these questions in the margins of Hermione’s notes, knowing that only Culpepper himself could give him a proper answer but driven to put his frustration into words anyway. Having recently finished his homework, he’d decided to spend the rest of the afternoon tackling another large chunk of Culpepper’s research. Severus and Julian were finishing the potion for Severus’s turning and Dorian was taking his nap, so Harry had the sitting room all to himself and was able to devote all his attention to the task at hand.  
  
       His suspicions about the old researcher had been growing over time – how did Culpepper know so much? Why did he speak so admiringly of the Mori when all other experts condemned them as evil and dangerous creatures? Why was he so familiar with Evernights and Shadowclaws and Warsongs while the other bloodlines were spoken of in afterthoughts ( _it has been said; studies indicate; ancient records show_ – all typical of how Culpepper related any information about the other three ‘known’ bloodlines). He read on:  
  
       _**Shadowclaws are considered strategists, often working closely with Warsongs (considered the ‘warrior’ sect of their race), and they have been known to infiltrate the highest levels of human society.**_  
  
       “And how exactly would a human know that unless a Mori told him?” Harry asked, throwing down his quill with an impatient sigh. He could see why Culpepper had never published the majority of his research; to the wizarding world, his theories could only be considered conjecture, the fantasies of an overactive imagination, but all of Culpepper’s facts rang true. There wasn’t a single piece of information in those notes that Harry couldn’t verify from what Aiya or any of the other Mori had told him.  
  
       “He must have a source – a _Mori_ source.” Harry sat and pondered his own hypothesis, feeling inexplicably close to a breakthrough concerning his weird hunches about Nathaniel Culpepper. He could taste the answer on the tip of his tongue, like a memory that had been tucked away for years only to be dislodged by a familiar scent or a glimpse of an old friend, but it slipped away when Severus stormed out of his laboratory with Julian hot on his heels, all of Harry’s concentration evaporating under the scorching heat of Severus’s glare.  
  
       “If you think I’m going to endure a lifetime of familial attachment to this grinning idiot, then think again, Potter.”  
  
       Harry stared blankly at him, baffled by Severus’s animosity.  
  
       “Technically, the Mori are connected even in death,” Julian interjected cheerfully, “so you wouldn’t be rid of me after just a lifetime –”  
  
       Harry’s Charms textbook suddenly flew off the coffee table and smacked Julian in the stomach.  
  
       “See how he prattles on and on whether anyone wants to hear him or not? I won’t stand for this, Harry. Either he goes, or I go.” Severus calmly relayed this ultimatum, no longer betraying his anger in his expression though Harry could still feel it sizzling through the connection that linked their minds.  
  
       Harry looked at Julian, not fooled by the Shadowclaw’s cherubic smile, then looked back at Severus, then shrugged and turned back to Hermione’s notes without a word to either of them. He knew better than to get caught in the middle of one of Severus’s and Julian’s brotherly spats. He found his place in the middle of the page and started reading again:  
  
       _**A thrall of the Shadowclaw bloodline was highly prized by dark wizards (second only to a thrall of the Evernight line), mainly due to the Shadowclaw ability of controlling lesser nocturnal beasts. Werewolves, in particular, became vulnerable to enslavement by dark wizards who used their Shadowclaw thralls to ‘tame’ them. This led to distrust of all Mori, and many werewolves aided in the tracking of the Mori during that time when the dark creatures were hunted into extinction, until the ruthless slaughter of a large pack of werewolves in southern Scotland frightened the lycanthrope community into –**_  
  
       The notes were yanked out of Harry’s hands.  
  
       “Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away,” Severus informed him dryly, clutching Hermione’s notes in one hand while the other caught Harry’s chin and turned his face so their eyes met.  
  
       “It’s true, Harry.” Julian plucked the binder of notes out of Severus’s hand and flipped through its pages, then tossed it carelessly aside as he perched on the armrest of the sofa, a restless energy imbued in his every movement. “He’s been attempting to ignore _me_ for the past hour or so, and as you can see it’s had no effect on me whatsoever.”  
  
       “I’m willing to take more drastic measures if necessary,” Severus threatened.  
  
       Harry stood up, bending down to retrieve his notes from the floor where Julian had thrown them. He missed the habitual ‘once-over’ look from Severus, as well as the silent, murderous glare that Severus shot at Julian when he noticed that he wasn’t the only one enjoying the view of Harry’s backside.  
  
       “What?” Julian acted surprised by Severus’s furious look, with only the faintest of lascivious grins marring his angelic expression.  
  
       Severus must have imparted some telepathic insult to him because Julian suddenly smirked, his golden eyes narrowing in devilish glee.  
  
       “That really hurt my feelings, Severus,” he cooed, adopting a stricken expression, then with lightning-fast speed he tugged Harry into his arms, trapping him in a bear hug. “ _You’ll_ comfort me, won’t you, Harry?”  
  
       “Mmmrf,” Harry said, his face pressed against Julian’s chest, his arms waving madly as he tried to escape Julian's tight embrace. In the back of his mind he could feel an eruption of fury from Severus, a wordless surge of rage at Julian’s flagrant disregard of the unspoken ‘look but don’t touch’ rule that had been put into effect after Lisette’s visit.  
  
       “This one belongs to me,” Severus snapped, tearing Harry out of Julian’s arms and pushing Harry behind him, out of Julian's line of sight. “Find someone else to lick your wounds for you.”  
  
       “But I think Harry would be so _very good_ at it,” Julian continued playing the innocent, choosing his words carefully as he sought to provoke him. He tried to peek over Severus’s shoulder at Harry, ignoring Harry's glare as he went so far as to try and shove Severus out of the way only to be knocked back. He rubbed at his shoulder, pouting. “Now, now, Severus … don’t be stingy.”  
  
       [What are you _doing_?] Harry pressed the question into Julian’s mind so sharply that he could see a wince of pain cross his expression before Julian skillfully buried it beneath a smiling veneer. He couldn’t understand why Julian kept chipping away at Severus’s self-control, almost as if he _wanted_ to start a fight with him.  
  
       [I need him to get all this anger out of his system.] Julian didn’t dare look at Harry, his narrowed gaze focused on following every nuance of Severus’s body language; apparently, his jovial grin and impish demeanor were only a façade constructed to keep Severus off-balance. [He’s trying to block our bond, and if he breaks it completely I won’t be able to turn him. If I can force him to fight it out with me now, he’ll be more accepting of me tonight when we perform the ceremony. At the very least, if I’m obnoxious enough, maybe he’ll stop feeling so damn guilty for hitting me the other day.]  
  
       Harry could see the logic behind Julian’s actions. Severus had been distancing himself from Julian ever since the day of Harry’s examination, angry at himself for the slip in self-control that had ended in Julian’s swollen and bruised cheek, terrified that even one isolated instance of lashing out violently against someone he cared about only confirmed his worst fear about himself – that he was his father’s son in every way.  
  
       [I suppose it’s okay, then. Do you want any help? Want me to flirt back or something?]  
  
       [I said I wanted him angry, Harry, not homicidal.] Julian commented with a wry smile.  
  
       [Good point.] Harry noticed that Severus was giving them both suspicious looks that bordered on outright jealousy, so he chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “Julian’s just looking for a substitute for Sirius. He’d probably hug Filch if it meant he could get his fix of male physical contact.”  
  
       [Oh, now that’s a low blow,] Julian protested, his grin sagging into a scowl.  
  
       “Not this Black nonsense again,” Severus said with an exasperated sigh. He fixed his inky stare on Julian, redirecting his turbulent emotions into a new outlet: saving Julian from the ‘mistake’ of chasing Sirius. “No brother of mine is going to degrade himself by sniffing around that worthless mutt. It’s bad enough that he’s Harry’s godfather – must I live in terror of becoming his brother-in-law as well?”  
  
       Harry hid his smile. How quickly Severus had gone from refusing to even tolerate Julian’s presence to now asserting his ‘sibling right’ to meddle in Julian’s love life if he thought it was in his best interests.  
  
       Julian did not take kindly to Severus’s remarks, though whether it was out of pretense or sincerity was hard to tell. “I haven’t waited over a century to find my mate only to have you ruin it for me.”  
  
       “ _Mate_? Sirius Black is hardly suitable for – ” Severus paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turned to Harry with his icy composure firmly in place. “I believe Dorian will be waking soon. Perhaps you should check on him?”  
  
       Harry took that not-so-subtle hint and agreed to vacate the room before Severus could launch into any more ‘anti-Sirius’ propaganda. He scooped up his notes and his schoolbag, recovered his Charms textbook from its awkward landing place near Julian’s feet, then brushed past the bickering siblings and headed into Dorian’s room, gently closing the door behind him.  
  
       Just as he’d guessed, Dorian was fast asleep, proving that Severus’s suggestion had been purely motivated by a desire to spare Harry any more ‘mutt’ comments and not out of any concern over Dorian’s naptime.  
  
       _Of course, he could just stop insulting Sirius altogether and then there’d be no need to send me off like that_ , Harry grumbled to himself, slinging his schoolbag onto a nearby chair before he settled on the soft, cushy rug with Hermione’s notes, determined to finish the section on Shadowclaws before Severus’s turning. He picked up from the last word he’d read before Severus interrupted him:  
  
       **_– into refusing to involve themselves in the Ministry-funded extermination of the Mori race. However, this merciless act of vengeance is not attributed to Shadowclaws, as some may speculate, but appears to have been the work of a single Mori – in all likelihood, the much-feared ‘demon’ of the Mori race, Rauko.  
  
       Shadowclaws often live in large interconnected groups (unlike their Warsong cousins who tend towards a nuclear family unit); a village may contain a single extended Shadowclaw family with many generations co-existing in one tight-knit community. Other Mori villages are comprised of a mix of several bloodlines, so this preference for self-isolation may stem from the Shadowclaw’s fiercely territorial nature._**  
  
       Harry found it fascinating that everyone kept telling him how territorial Shadowclaws were, but he’d never seen even a hint of that from Julian. Was his personal shadow just the exception to the rule? His hopes of learning more about the Shadowclaws (without having to ask Julian all sorts of embarrassing questions) were crushed when he saw that Culpepper’s research suddenly leapt from Shadowclaw living arrangements to a discussion of Mori identification.  
  
       **_Evolution and adaptation has rendered the Mori indistinguishable from humans in most outward physical characteristics, though blood purity can be determined by the shape of the ears [see sketches] and the lack of dilation of the pupils when the eyes are exposed to natural light. A ‘turned’ Mori will exhibit human-like dilation, while a full-blooded natural-born will have little to no dilation, even in the brightest sunlight._**  
  
       Harry blinked. _Sketches? There are sketches?_ He flipped through the binder, but he didn’t see any pictures.  
  
       “It’s not like Hermione to leave anything out,” Harry muttered to himself, going back through the notes page by page in his search for the elusive ‘sketches’ that Culpepper mentioned.  
  
       “Maybe they were _dirty_ sketches,” a voice whispered wickedly into Harry’s ear.  
  
       “Gah!” Harry swatted at the unexpected visitor with his binder, nearly bonking Rauko on the chin with his wild swing.  
  
       “That is hardly the greeting I was hoping for,” Rauko sulked.  
  
       “What kind of greeting do you expect when you sneak up on someone like that?” Harry asked crossly, though he was surprised he hadn’t sensed Rauko’s presence long before he spoke to him – all that magic and darkness skittering over his skin,projected by the ancient creature now lounging next to him on Dorian’s rug, should have clued him in to Rauko’s arrival, but Harry had been alarmingly oblivious. It was as if his instincts were being selective lately – weeding out the true threats, only kicking in if there was real danger to be found.  
  
       Rauko ignored Harry’s annoyed expression, snagging Culpepper’s notes and scanning them with a critical eye. “Ahh, this is the pureblood, yes? Coldpepper? He likes to think he knows us so well …”  
  
       “ _Cul_ pepper,” Harry corrected him, then asked with a frown, “How do you know he’s a pureblood?”  
  
       “Perhaps I should have killed him when I had the chance,” Rauko continued, acting as if he hadn’t heard Harry’s question, “but he has proven harmless so far.”  
  
       Harry didn’t really know how to respond to a statement like that, so he just dropped the topic altogether in favor of finding out why Rauko had arrived unannounced. He tried very hard not to think about the photograph tucked in the back pocket of his trousers, worried that he’d somehow let his secret slip and Rauko had come to claim the only connection to Aiya that Harry had left. “Why are you here? Did something happen?”  
  
       “I am here to supervise Severus’s turning.”  
  
       Harry let go of the breath he’d been holding, earning a sharp glance from his adopted father. He quickly hid his relief with a smirk.  
  
       “You came to _supervise_?” Harry reclaimed his binder and shoved it into his schoolbag; he’d given up trying to read the notes after so many disruptions. “Don’t you mean _gloat_?”  
  
       “I won’t deny that I am delighted by this turn of events.” Rauko reclining comfortably on his side, one elbow planted on the floor with his head propped up by his hand, his hair falling in a loose, dark curtain around his face, managing to look relaxed and regal all at once in black trousers and a royal blue button-down shirt. His eyes faded now and then to a pale, muted lilac that Harry had seen once or twice from Aiya – usually when she was sad or upset – but for the most part, Rauko’s eyes were a brilliant violet, full of self-satisfaction.  
  
       “He was always meant to be one of us,” he said, more to himself than to Harry, his eyes lit with an unearthly glow. “The darkness craves him.”  
  
       Harry froze, struck by Rauko’s statement. He’d said something along the same lines himself on the very night he and Severus had first made love – _‘The darkness is just as hungry for you as I am’_ – and though those words had seemed to trouble Severus, Harry remembered how right and natural it had felt to say them.  
  
       Rauko beckoned Harry over to him with a lazy wave of his hand. Once Harry had scooted closer, Rauko pushed himself back into a sitting position, reaching out to place a hand on Harry’s stomach, his touch prompting a fluttering sensation in Harry's belly as the baby responded to its ‘grandfather’ with a wordless welcome.  
  
       “The child is strong,” came the diagnosis, a proud grin lighting up Rauko’s face. “An Evernight, through and through.”  
  
       “The child,” Harry said as he pushed Rauko’s hand away, “is a Potter-Snape. Or a Snape-Potter. We haven’t really talked about which name will come first.”  
  
       Rauko laughed, reaching over to ruffle Harry’s hair as if he had just said something endearingly naïve. “You will reconsider that once we relocate you – how else will you hide from the wizarding world? You are conspicuous enough with that scar of yours, Harry. Keeping your last name would only make it worse.”  
  
       _Relocate? Hide?_ Harry sighed. With all the excitement recently, he’d managed to forget that he was leaving Hogwarts forever at the end of January – and as a Mori, he couldn’t very well go about life as usual in the wizarding world. Where would they go? What were their lives going to be like? His downward spiral did not go unnoticed by his companion, and Rauko rested his hand against Harry’s pale cheek, the warm pressure of his palm providing a measure of comfort.  
  
       “I am – how do they say? – a wonker by saying such callous things to you,” Rauko said quietly, his way of apologizing for making light of Harry’s situation.  
  
       “I think you mean ‘wanker,’” Harry said with a lopsided smile.  
  
       “Yes, yes, these young people and their slang – ” Rauko waved his hand dismissively, exuding that air of frustration that the elderly often exhibit when dealing with their younger counterparts. “In Elvish, we would say _amada_ – a fool.”  
  
       Of all the words Harry could think of to describe Rauko, _fool_ was not one of them, but he basked in the glow of this rare apology. He was about to ask Rauko about the strange vision he’d had, hoping that he would be able to interpret the meanings of the snake and the voice, but he was suddenly assaulted by several voices all at once, each trying to tell him something important.  
  
       _Harry, that **wizard** is here … that Dumbledore …  
  
       … he wants to talk to Severus …  
  
       Stop him! What if he persuades him to …  
  
       Severus won’t break his promise …  
  
       Dumbledore isn’t happy, though. Even **we** know that much … _  
  
       Harry groaned and raised his barriers, shoving the agitated voices out of his head. “Why do they always have to talk at the _same time_? Haven’t they ever heard of taking turns?”  
  
       Rauko perked up, his easygoing attitude disappearing and his cold, calculating side resurfacing in response to Harry’s strange comments. “Is it the spirits? What do they say?”  
  
       “Dumbledore is here.” Harry got to his feet with difficulty, feeling a heaviness in his bones that hadn’t been there before the voices issued their warning. “They say he wants to talk to Severus – probably to persuade him not to be turned.”  
  
       “That Lisette! She promised me that Dumbledore would not be a problem.” Rauko sounded like an old movie villain whose evil plan had just fallen through, and Harry imagined he could hear Rauko’s unspoken ‘Curses! Foiled again!’ echo in his mind, giving him the giggles at a time when he least felt like laughing.  
  
       “This is no time for hysterics,” Rauko said sternly, misinterpreting Harry’s nervous laughter.  
  
       “I’m not hysterical,” Harry choked out between chuckles. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he checked one last time on Dorian (miraculously still asleep), then opened the bedroom door to confront whatever obstacle Dumbledore would be presenting them with today. The thought of having Rauko and Dumbledore in the same room didn’t help Harry’s stress levels either.  
  
       _And to think, only a few months ago I just had **one** meddling old coot to deal with_ , Harry thought with a resigned smile.  
  
       [Coot? _Coot_?!] Rauko spluttered indignantly. Apparently, being labeled ‘old’ lost its sting after several centuries.  
  
       [What? You prefer _amada_?] Harry asked, his smile widening to a grin, and it was with this happy expression that he was able to greet Dumbledore, all his anxieties kept neatly under the surface. For someone who rarely kept his emotions on a leash, Harry did a wonderful job of looking completely unconcerned by Dumbledore’s visit.  
  
       “What brings you down to the dungeons?” he asked, his tone light and untroubled.  
  
       Dumbledore stood with Severus near the door, the latter quirking a black brow at the sight of Rauko, while Julian cast curious looks in all directions, perched again on the arm of the sofa.  
  
       “Hello, Harry. I am sorry to say that this is not a social call,” was Dumbledore’s grave reply, his blue eyes bereft of their usual twinkle. He then inclined his head towards Rauko, mustering a small, polite smile. “I see our wards are still no match for you. To what do we owe this pleasure?”  
  
       “I came to assist Julian. This will be his first turning.” Rauko mirrored Dumbledore's courteous manner, though his smile was the icier of the two.  
  
       Severus snorted. “Aiya had never turned anyone before Harry, yet I don’t recall you arriving to ‘assist’ her.”  
  
       “Yes, what exactly are you implying when you say you have to ‘assist’ me?” Julian crossed his arms over his chest, appearing to take offense at Rauko’s words, but the playful glint in his honey-brown eyes belied his angry expression.  
  
       “Forget all that,” Harry said impatiently. No doubt there would be many, many more opportunities to tease Rauko in the future. For now, he wanted to know the reason behind Dumbledore's visit. “You say it isn’t a social call – is this about Severus’s turning?”  
  
       “No.” Dumbledore stroked his beard, his grim expression never wavering. “I regret to inform you all that there has been another attack. We have just learned of it from Kingsley Shacklebolt.”  
  
       “It was not an attack against the Mori,” Rauko said confidently. “I would be the first to know if that were the case.”   
  
       Dumbledore sighed and nodded. “Yes, Rauko is correct. It was a Muggle household this time and, thankfully, there were no casualties, but the home itself was heavily damaged. The family in question was not at home at the time, so we can only assume that this attack was meant as a warning – though it seems the Death Eaters were searching for something as well.”  
  
       Severus’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “I’ve never known Death Eaters to warn Muggles about anything. You say that it wasn’t a Mori household, so what else could they possibly have been looking for in a non-magical home?”  
  
       “That,” Dumbledore said tiredly, “is a question for Miss Granger, I believe.”  
  
       “What?” Harry stepped forward. “What does Hermione have to do with this?”  
  
       “It was Miss Granger’s house, Harry.”  
  
       The news slammed into Harry’s gut like a fist. He’d been dreading something like this happening – expecting it, really – but the reality was much worse than anything he’d imagined. It was no longer just speculation: Hermione, and her family, had become a target … but of who? Was it really Voldemort? Or had Lucius made good on his threat?  
  
       Harry’s first concernwas for his friend. “How is she?”  
  
       “Frightened,” Dumbledore said somberly, “but coping beautifully, despite the circumstances.”  
  
       “What about her parents? What will happen to them?”  
  
       Severus followed up Harry’s questions with a suggestion of his own. “The Ministry can’t be trusted to keep them safe. We should hide them with someone in the Order – the Weasleys, perhaps.”  
  
       “Give them to us,” Rauko broke in, his calm command drawing everyone’s attention. “Who better to hide them than the Mori? My wife is particularly fond of Miss Granger – I believe she would be willing to take personal responsibility for the girl’s parents.”  
  
       Dumbledore hesitated. “It is a generous offer, Rauko, but – ”  
  
       “I must insist,” Rauko interrupted whatever protest Dumbledore intended to voice. “I would like nothing better than to invite Miss Granger’s family to stay with us. She has been a … champion, of sorts, for the Mori cause. It would only be fitting that we try to repay her kindness and support.”  
  
       Harry agreed that Rauko’s suggestion would be the best solution to the problem – after all, what was to stop someone from attacking the Weasleys or any other Order member who took the Grangers in? By contrast, the Mori could provide anonymity as well as safety.  
  
       Dumbledore conceded, but he made it very clear that the ultimate decision was not theirs to make. “It is up to Miss Granger and her parents how we proceed. If they are in any way uncomfortable with this plan, we must reconsider our options and devise a new strategy.”  
  
       Harry doubted Hermione would pass up an invitation of sanctuary from the one Mori whose leadership had kept his people hidden from the wizarding world for years, and from what he’d seen of the Lennox home, he felt confident that the Grangers would feel more at home amongst the Muggle-adapted creatures than with a wizarding family.  
  
       “I believe that if someone were to investigate this matter,” Dumbledore suddenly spoke again, throwing surreptitious glances at Harry, “he would do well to first discover what it is that the intruders were looking for …”  
  


 

 

* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
       “I don’t _know_ what they were looking for,” Hermione insisted, pinching her boyfriend’s arm in retaliation for his endless questions.  
  
       The three friends sat in front of the hearth in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the solitude of the late evening hours with no other students around to distract them or eavesdrop on their conversation.  
  
       “But you must have some idea.” Of the three, Ron appeared most affected by the attack on the Granger home – he hadn’t let Hermione out of his sight since they’d heard.  
  
       “Maybe they were looking for something that they _think_ you have,” Harry suggested. “I know he hasn’t sent you anything lately, but did Culpepper send you something other than his research during the time you were writing to each other?”  
  
       Hermione shook her head, fiddling with a gold chain around her neck. “No, not really. A few trinkets – I think he liked the idea of pretending I was his granddaughter; he only has grandsons – but nothing of any value.”  
  
       “Trinkets? _Granddaughter?_ ” Ron sounded appalled at the idea. “Hermione, what if he’s some batty old pervert out to seduce you?”  
  
       “It’s not like that,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “Really, Ron, don’t you think I would know if someone was trying to seduce me?”  
  
       Harry frowned, reaching over to examine Hermione’s necklace more closely. It was a simple gold chain, nothing special, but strung on that chain was a small golden key. Harry himself might have dismissed it as nothing more than a charm, had he not received a key of his own just the other day.  
  
       “Hermione, is this a Gringotts key?”  
  
       Hermione’s eyes widened. “What?”  
  
       “It looks just like the one Severus gave me in my inheritance.”   
  
       She examined the key closely, then grimaced. “I … I just thought it was a cute necklace.”  
  
       “For someone so smart, you can be awfully dumb – ouch!”  
  
       Ron massaged his sore arm after receiving his second pinch of the evening.  
  
       “As if you had any idea it was a Gringotts key. You probably didn’t even notice I was wearing it until just now.”  
  
       “The question is,” Harry broke in before their argument could escalate, “why would Culpepper send you a key?”  
  
       “And why didn’t he tell me what it was for? He just said it was a gift … ”  
  
       They fell silent, all their unanswered questions hanging over their heads like rain clouds. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, perpetually aware of the strange fluctuations in his connection to Severus – his soul would be laid bare to Harry at one moment, then the barriers around his mind would slam shut and block Harry out completely.  
  
       _I still don’t see why I can’t be there with him_ , Harry thought glumly. In fact, Rauko had asked him to stay away for the next few days while Severus went through his change, arguing that Harry’s presence would interfere with the process, hence Harry’s return to the Gryffindor dormitories. Julian, while not convinced that Harry should stay away the entire three or so days that Severus would be unconscious, _did_ mention that having Harry at the actual ceremony would distract Severus. In the end, Harry had reluctantly agreed to a temporary exile, and Dorian had been taken to visit his grandparents.  
  
       Forcing himself back to the problem at hand, Harry thought long and hard about what it was that Culpepper might want to hide. His confusion over Culpepper’s notes earlier that day came back to him now and he turned to Hermione.  
  
       “In those notes you gave me, it says ‘see sketches’ on a page talking about Mori identification. Did Culpepper send you any sketches?”  
  
       “No, but since I had the real thing to study I didn’t give it much thought,” she admitted.  
  
       Harry chewed at his thumbnail as he tried to stitch together at least one clear idea from all these scattered clues. “Then I think it’s safe to assume that he’s been holding back some of his research … ”  
  
       Hermione straightened up in her seat, latching onto Harry’s idea and running with it. “And maybe that’s why he sent me the key! If he wanted to protect his life’s work, where else would he store it? There could be a whole _vault_ full of his research at Gringotts.”  
  
       Ron eyed his girlfriend warily. “Umm, Hermione? You’re drooling.”  
  
       “Oh, I am not,” she snapped, though she did indulge in one quick swipe of her hand over her mouth, just in case.  
  
       “He must have had a reason for thinking that key was safer with you than with him.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, cringing as a flood of Severus’s thoughts poured into his mind from his reopened barriers. The ebb and flow of their intimacy was beginning to wear on his nerves. He gave his friends a half-smile. “It’s useless to speculate, though. We’ll just have to take a trip to Gringotts over the holiday and find out for ourselves.”  
  
       Hermione settled back into Ron’s arms, leaning her head against his chest. She’d put up a brave front so far, but there was a tremble in her voice as she whispered, “Just think – if they’d been home, my parents might have died over a silly _key_.”  
  
       Ron hugged her close, glancing over her head at Harry with a helpless look.  
  
       “Your parents will be safe with the Mori,” Harry reassured her, but he felt just as powerless as Ron to provide Hermione with any true comfort. Fear – it was the enemy’s greatest weapon. He was starting to forget what it was like to not be worried about where Voldemort would strike next, or which family would suffer the loss of another loved one.  
  
       _This war is like a disease_ , he thought as he stared at the fire. _It just keeps spreading and infecting more and more lives … when will it end?_  
  


 

 

* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
       [Harry.]  
  
       He groaned and rolled over, trying to escape the voice that interrupted his sleep. He could feel the crackle of dark energy and magic against his skin, accompanied by a feeling of longing and desire – similar to the constant, empty ache in his heart whenever he was separated from Severus.  
  
       [Wake up, Harry.]  
  
       Harry kicked off the covers, reaching down to unbutton his nightshirt as he sleepily replied, [Fine, fine, but make it quick, will you? I’m really tired … ]  
  
       “Harry!”  
  
       The voice that hissed in his ear was decidedly NOT Severus’s voice, and Harry’s fingers stilled on the middle button of his shirt.  
  
       [I appreciate the striptease,] Julian switched back to mindspeak, his laughing eyes gleaming gold in the darkness of the dormitory, [but I don’t think Severus would approve.]  
  
       [Bugger off,] Harry growled, pulling the covers back over his head and burrowing back into the familiar softness of his old bed. He only hoped Julian’s antics hadn’t disturbed any of the other boys.  
  
       [Harry, I need you to come with me. It’s about Severus.]  
  
       He peeked over the edge of the bedspread, taking his first good look at Julian since waking up. There were dark circles under his eyes, his chestnut-brown hair falling limp and lank past his shoulders. He looked as if he hadn’t slept the entire time Harry had been away.  
  
       [What is it? Is he awake?] Harry had enough faith in his connection to Severus to believe that if anything was wrong with him, he’d know it before anyone else. The past three days had been hellish for him – wanting to see Severus, wanting to touch Severus; he even missed their arguments. Their connection had been shaky during Severus’s change (it was hard to feel close to someone who was either passed out or blocking him) but earlier that evening he’d felt it solidify once more, stronger than ever.  
  
       [Awake – and asking for you. Well, ‘asking’ is putting it nicely.]  
  
       Harry dragged himself out of bed, buttoned up his nightshirt, then gestured for Julian to lead the way. Now that the haze of sleep was clearing from his mind, he found himself a little nervous about seeing Severus now that he was a Mori. How much had he changed?  
  
       Beneath his anxiety, desire lurked in the back of Harry’s thoughts like a persistent itch begging to be scratched, and even the caress of the shadows over his skin as he entered the void only added to Harry’s need to be touched – or was it Harry’s need after all? The hunger, the desperation – there was a ferocity to these sensations that felt distinctly foreign to Harry.  
  
       [Julian, you were just kidding when you said Severus wouldn’t let me out of bed for the first few days, right?]  
  
       A soft chuckle reverberated through Harry’s mind.  
  
       [ _Right?_ ]  
  
       Julian’s laugh was swallowed by the void, but amusement colored his voice when he finally replied, [Oh, I’m sure he’ll let you eat and bathe. Why so worried? I’ll take care of Dorian while you and Severus are … occupied.]  
  
       [That isn’t the point,] Harry forced out, nearly choking on his embarrassment, and no prompts from Julian could induce him to speak again for the rest of the walk to the dungeons. Harry’s face was still beet-red as he stepped out of the void into the eerily-quiet sitting room. Rauko, who had made himself comfortable in one of the plush armchairs, rose to his feet when he saw Harry. His right hand was heavily bandaged and there were scratches on his neck, but he seemed perfectly at ease.  
  
       “The noise level has been drastically reduced in here,” Julian commented with a wry smile. “Did he fall back asleep?”  
  
       “He only quieted down a few minutes ago,” Rauko answered, his gaze locking onto Harry. “I believe he knows you are here, Harry.”  
  
       He didn’t need to be told – he could feel the pull of Severus’s mind, a wordless summons that Harry found impossible to ignore. He walked towards the closed bedroom door, drawn to that room by an irresistible force, his feet moving of their own accord.  
  
       “Wait.” Julian caught Harry’s arm. “Whatever you do, _don’t untie him_.”  
  
       Harry recoiled from him in shock. “You tied him up?”

       Julian hurried to explain. “We had to restrain him or he might have done harm to himself or one of us. Dumbledore provided us with charmed restraints so Severus could not free himself, and Rauko did the honors,” here, he let slip a smile, “for which, I fear, Severus will never forgive him.”  
  
       “Severus does not take kindly to being restrained,” Rauko said, gingerly touching the vivid red scratches on his pale throat, but then his lips twisted in a mocking smile, his gaze never straying from Harry as he murmured, “Enjoy it while you can.”  
  
       “A newly-turned Shadowclaw can be dangerous,” Julian continued, tactfully steering them back to safer ground before Harry’s embarrassment turned to anger. “He hasn’t learned how to control his instincts yet. The worst of it is over, but he’s still a little too wild to be set loose around you, especially in your condition. In his … _excitement_ … he might go too far and hurt you or the baby.”  
  
       Harry forced himself to look away from Rauko’s hypnotic stare, convinced that those violet eyes were compelling him to just accept this new information and not think about it too much. Instead, he turned to Julian, positive that this was one person who would be open and honest with him.  
  
       “Lisette never said a word about Severus becoming violent during his turning; why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”  
  
       Julian’s eyes darkened to a russet hue. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he seemed to choke on his words, falling victim to a coughing fit as Rauko answered the question for him.  
  
       “These things are never certain, Harry. Humans are unpredictable creatures, and no one responds to being turned in exactly the same way. You are proof of that, are you not?”  
  
       [There’s something you aren’t telling me,] Harry accused him, but resisting Severus’s call was starting to become painful. He would just have to deal with Rauko later. He stepped around Julian and entered the bedroom, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

  
  
       [You must learn when to be silent,] Rauko snarled at Julian once Harry had gone.   
  
       Julian gasped for air, glaring at him. [I don’t believe in keeping secrets. You know that. If he asks me a question, I’m going to answer it. Besides, Harry is smart enough to know when you’re manipulating him.]  
  
       Rauko’s expression was cold and unconcerned. [I do what is necessary.]  
  
       [Starving Severus of Harry’s presence was _necessary_? How can you even begin to justify that sort of torture? Severus would not have grown so violent if Harry had been with him these past few days.]  
  
       Rauko’s eyes narrowed. [Do not think to lecture me on this, Julian. What little pain I have inflicted will be repaid by the honing of Severus’s instincts. I have waited too long for him to be turned – I want him at his _full_ potential, not coddled by his mate into a mediocre version of what he could be.]  
  
       [Their bond will be unhealthy,] Julian pointed out irritably. [Severus is nearly mad with the need to possess Harry, and those first instincts are always the strongest. You’ve basically programmed him to be a jealous bastard for the rest of his life!]  
  
       Rauko’s gaze softened, violet fading to melancholy lilac. [They are _maranwe_. That need to possess would have always been there, regardless of my actions …]  
  
       Julian recognized that look and sighed, swallowing the rest of his angry tirade, but not without a parting shot of, [My only consolation is knowing what Lisette will do to you once she learns what you’ve done.]  
  
       He savored the look of dawning horror that soon spread over Rauko’s face.  
  


 

 

* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
       The bedroom was sunk in darkness and quiet as a tomb, the scent of patchouli and sandalwood hanging heavy in the air. Shadows embraced Harry as soon as he closed the door behind him, their misty touch doing little to alleviate the burning need that grew stronger with every step Harry took towards the bed.  
  
       [Severus?]  
  
       Shadows covered the bed, half-concealing the figure beneath them, but Harry could plainly see how Severus’s wrists had been secured with ropes, the ends of those ropes tied to each of the posts at the head of the bed; similar ropes were tied to the posts at the foot of the bed, indicating that Severus’s ankles were also restrained.  
  
       [Are you awake?]  
  
       Harry crawled onto the bed, shooing away the shadows as he went, but Severus’s face was turned away from him, his long, black hair preventing Harry from getting a good look at him. The newly-turned Shadowclaw was breathing heavily, a rasping pant that reminded Harry of Padfoot.  
  
       “Is it … really you?” Severus’s voice was ragged, strained; his hands clenched once, then relaxed, the first physical sign of tension from him since Harry had entered the room.  
  
       “It’s really me.” Harry smiled, reaching out to smooth the hair away from Severus’s face, but suddenly Severus turned and lunged at him, a ravenous hunger in his eyes, and Harry scrambled backwards, watching with fright and puzzlement as Severus was jerked back against the bed by the ropes at his wrists, growling and cursing as he continued to try to get to Harry.  
  
       “Severus …” Harry stared in astonishment at Severus's altered appearance: too-pale skin, luminous even in the darkness; endlessly-black eyes that now glinted with silver during each attempt to fight his bonds; long, silky hair,grown far past his shoulders, that shone as blackly as his eyes – and looking so young, as if the years had melted away along with his humanity. Instead of the elfin, fragile beauty that most Mori exhibited, Severus was all sharpness and strength, but his fierceness had its own attractiveness, a magnetism that was purely animalistic. He was as alluring in his rage as Rauko was at his most charming.  
  
       [ _Untie me_.] Severus yanked and pulled at the ropes on his wrists, jarring the entire bed with each forceful tug.  
  
       “They … they told me not to,” Harry said, breathless, his hands trembling with the desire to touch this dark, dangerous creature.  
  
       Severus fell back against the bed with a growl, the silence of the room broken only by his panting breaths. His eyes shifted from liquid silver back to ebony as he stared at Harry, devouring him with his gaze, daring him to come closer.  
  
       “You would obey them and not me?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft, but Harry knew better.  
  
       “When have I ever been obedient?” He responded with a saucy smile; his initial fear had dissipated the instant Severus asked his question, sounding so much like his old self that it had instantly put Harry at ease.  
  
       [Untie me, Harry,] Severus murmured into his mind, abruptly switching tactics as his black-velvet voice coaxed and cajoled. [I only want to touch you.]  
  
       “I can’t. Not just yet, anyway.” Harry had been skeptical of Julian’s warning at first, but the way Severus had tried to jump him was eye-opening and proved to Harry that it would be safer to leave Severus restrained until he calmed down.  
  
       Severus tugged so hard at his bonds that the wooden posts creaked loudly in protest.  
  
       [This is agony!] he snapped, pinning Harry with a furious glare since he couldn’t pin him with his hands. [I can’t be so close to you and not be able to touch you – it’s torture! Now untie me.]  
  
       A torrent of Severus’s emotions battered at Harry’s brain, leaving him winded and shaken, but he held firm in his resolve, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming urge to give in to Severus’s demands. He had never felt such a staggering desire to submit, and had it not been for the child he carried he most likely would have untied Severus at the first opportunity, not caring that he might get hurt. Pain, when Severus inflicted it, felt too much like pleasure to Harry for him to fear it, but he couldn’t risk Severus accidentally harming their child.  
  
       Drawing in a deep breath, Harry placed his hand on Severus’s chest, amazed at the heat that radiated off his body through the thin nightshirt he wore. He bit back a chuckle as his beyond-feral lover seemed paralyzed by that simple touch, and he was encouraged to continue, unbuttoning the shirt so he could access the flesh beneath it.  
  
       [I can’t untie you. It isn’t safe. But I can touch you …] He slid his hand beneath the blanket, finding Severus already erect and straining against his pajama bottoms. He cupped his fingers around the warm bulge, squeezing gently. [Do you want me to touch you like this?]  
  
       Severus hissed and fought his bonds once more, aroused by Harry’s advances but not satisfied with simply receiving. Harry withdrew his hand with a sigh.  
  
       [Or I can leave,] he said.  
  
       Severus cursed and closed his eyes, struggling to leash the beast within. After a few seconds of shallow breathing and tightly-clenched fists, he forced his muscles to relax, turning his head to the side so he did not have to look at Harry when he whispered, “Don’t leave.”  
  
       Harry smiled, unbuttoning his own shirt and slipping it off, then stripping out of his trousers before tossing the clothing aside. Somewhere between shrugging out of his shirt and fiddling with his waistband, he’d recaptured Severus’s attention, a hint of silver flaring back to life in the bottomless black of those piercing eyes. Once naked, Harry slipped under the covers, shoving Severus’s pants down to his knees before kissing his way back up to his chest, paying special attention to the scars criss-crossing Severus's pale skin.  
  
       [Kiss me.]  
  
       It was a command, not a request, but one that Harry happily surrendered to as he straddled Severus’s hips and bent down to kiss him, moaning when Severus bit viciously into his lower lip then licked away the blood that trickled down Harry’s chin.  
  
       [I thought you wanted a kiss.]  
  
       Severus’s fingers flexed as he stared up at Harry, running his tongue over his own lips to catch any stray drops of blood. [I lied.]  
  
       Harry chuckled. [Then what do you _really_ want?]  
  
       Severus strained again at his bonds, but not as violently as before, the movement seeming more like an involuntary impulse than an actual fight for freedom. [I need to be inside you, Harry. It’s all I can think about …]  
  
       Harry could feel Severus’s magic clawing at his skin, raking over flesh so sensitive that he worried he would come just from the feel of all that dark energy sliding over his body. He wanted to ease Severus’s suffering – he knew firsthand the torment of being driven by instinct – but no way could he release him and give him the dominance he desired. Severus would have to be satisfied with a compromise.  
  
       He slid down Severus’s body and began sucking and licking at his cock, ignoring Severus's many protests (including the frustrated, “That isn’t what I meant by ‘inside you,’ you brat!”) as he made sure to run his tongue over every ridge, leaving the pulsing shaft slick and shiny. Just as Severus began to groan approvingly, Harry pulled away.  
  
       Severus’s eyes flashed silver. [Are you teasing me on purpose?]  
  
       [I thought you wanted to be inside me,] Harry said as he straddled Severus once more, raising up so he could ease himself down onto his lover’s cock. He went slowly, a whimper escaping him at how exquisite it felt to be filled inch by inch with Severus’s cock, but his lover was not in the mood to be patient, and a single savage thrust of Severus’s hips had him buried to the hilt inside Harry’s arse.  
  
       “Gods, yes,” Severus choked out, the relief palpable in his voice.  
  
       Harry grunted but recovered quickly, rocking gently at first, then with increasing tempo as Severus’s husky moans spurred him on. There was little romance in the encounter, just heat and need and a heavy dose of instinct, but neither seemed to care as they moved together, Severus thrusting his hips as Harry rode him. It ended all too soon, Severus’s stamina compromised by his urgency as he lost control and came hard inside of Harry, his hips bucking wildly. Harry gasped at the sensation but didn’t come himself, caught on the cusp of his orgasm but more than happy to let Severus have his release first – he’d been tied up for three days, after all. It was only fair.  
  
       He waited until the last jerk of Severus’s hips before rolling off of him, taking a few minutes to catch his breath. He continued to feel Severus’s magic and energy stroking his skin, mingling with his own magic, until he could no longer tell which was which. He loved this feeling of oneness, and it seemed to have deepened now that Severus was a Mori also.  
  
       [I think I like being on top,] Harry mused absently, though he wished it could have lasted longer.  
  
       When Severus didn’t reply, Harry propped himself up on one elbow, turning to look at him. [Severus?]  
  
       Severus’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even, his expression relaxed and peaceful – and was he _snoring_?  
  
       “Did you just _fall asleep_ on me?” Harry glared at him in disbelief. What happened to the wild beast who couldn’t wait to tear into Harry? One orgasm and all that pent-up frustration turned into exhaustion? What about this infamous Shadowclaw sex-drive he’d heard about?  
  
       _And I didn’t even get to finish_ , Harry complained, too depressed to even consider jerking off.  
  
       He sighed and reached over to untie Severus’s bonds, believing the worst to be over, but a subtle flicker of anticipation in his mind – clearly not his own – had him hesitating, then pulling back altogether.  
  
       _Ohhh, very sneaky_ , he thought, and he left the ropes in place, choosing instead to curl up against Severus’s side, inwardly chuckling as he caught the slightest twitch of a frown on Severus's lips.  
  
       _I’m sure I’ll be paying for that in the morning_ , he decided, then provocatively hooked his leg over Severus’s thigh, gave a good rub of his cock against his leg, and murmured a cheeky, “Goodnight, Severus,” before closing his eyes.  
  
       The only answer was a growl.

 


	45. A Beginning And An End

 

       _The world around him had dwindled to one shadowy corner in a room otherwise full of light and balmy air and the earthy smell of green, growing things. His skin was hot and tight, sunburned, and the ache of all that sunshine had spread throughout his body. He curled his stiff arms protectively around his protruding belly, facing into the dark corner as he kept that part of his body shielded from the light pouring in all around him. He could feel the shelter of his shadows fading away – soon, there would be nothing between him and the light. Soon, the true pain would begin …_  
  
       Bang! Bang! Bang!   
  
       Startled out of his dream, Harry sat up quickly only to be knocked back down onto the mattress by two familiar – and now unrestrained – hands.   
  
       “Where do you think you’re going?” A freed, feral Severus stared down at his captive with a predatory gleam in his beetle-black eyes.   
  
       “Severus, unlock this door right now!” Julian’s muffled shout was followed by another round of his fist slamming against the wooden door, then a louder thump, a cry of pain, and a mix of Elvish and English curses that had Harry cringing even though he couldn’t understand half of what was being said.   
  
       “I’ll unlock it when I damn well please,” Severus snarled, one hand planted firmly on Harry’s chest to keep him in place, the other reaching for one of the severed lengths of rope that lay in a heap on the bedspread.   
  
       [Okay, I have good news and bad news, Harry,] Julian’s voice broke into his mind. [The good news is that he’s rational enough to free himself – don’t ask me how he did it – and he’s in control of his abilities, which lessens the risk to you and the baby.]   
  
       Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. [And the bad news?]   
  
       [At some point, he warded the room. We can’t use the void to get in. Are you okay in there?]   
  
       “Say ‘yes’ and tell him to go away,” Severus said softly, stroking the rope’s frayed end against Harry’s cheek.   
  
       [Yes. Go away,] Harry replied automatically, obeying without question, spooked that Severus was so deep into his mind right now that he could overhear a conversation that Harry was having with someone else.   
  
       [Oh, _that’s_ reassuring.] Julian sighed, then yelled a few last instructions at Severus, “For mercy’s sake, let the poor boy get some sleep every now and then. And don’t forget you’ll need to feed him! And bathe him!”   
  
       “What am I, a pet?” Harry asked indignantly.   
  
       “Yes,” Severus said, bending down to crush his lips against Harry’s in a harsh, claiming kiss before murmuring against that trembling mouth, “ _My_ pet.”   
  
       Harry didn’t want to admit how much Severus’s bold statement aroused him, and he vented his displeasure with a retaliatory nip at his lover’s lips, replying with a cheeky grin, “Then you’d better be careful, because this pet bites.”   
  
       Those pure black eyes suddenly glinted silver and Severus grasped Harry’s hands, forcing them against the mattress over Harry’s head where all it took was a swift, silent spell to bind his wrists together with the very rope that had recently imprisoned Severus. He nuzzled Harry’s neck, then whispered in his ear, “I’m counting on that …”   
  
       _This can’t be good_ , Harry thought as he tugged ineffectually at the rope around his wrists.   
  
       “They kept you from me for three days,” Severus said as he settled himself between Harry’s thighs, digging his nails into Harry’s hips as he seemed to flash back on that agonizing period of separation, “so it’s only fair that I get to keep you all to myself for the same amount of time, don’t you think?”   
  
       His voice, as inescapably persuasive as Rauko’s, worked its hypnotic charm on Harry, beguiling him into relaxing his body, allowing Severus to spread his thighs wider. Shadows clung like a second skin to Severus’s lean, lithe body, some of them reaching out their misty fingers to caress Harry’s chest and stomach, sending a shiver dancing up his spine. Harry had never seen the shadows so attuned to anyone – not even to himself – but here they seemed to echo the needs and desires of their master, touching Harry wherever Severus’s gaze would fall, withdrawing whenever Severus moved to touch Harry with his own hands or lips.   
  
       “Do you know how long it took me to break the charm on those ropes?”   
  
       Harry shook his head in wordless reply, his eyes a feverish blue-green.   
  
       “Seven hours,” a rough squeeze of Harry’s upper thighs, “thirty-nine minutes,” a graze of teeth along his pale throat, “and fifty-six seconds.”   
  
       “Oh really? That long?” Harry played the role of insolent brat with relish, loving the flare of heat in Severus’s gaze as he teased him. Actually, he was astonished that Severus had been able to disable one of Dumbledore’s own spells, but Harry enjoyed taunting him too much to confess his admiration of Severus’s cleverness. “You must be losing your touch.”   
  
       Severus curled his fingers around Harry’s cock, squeezing. “Am I?”   
  
       “ _Hmmm_ ,” Harry managed to turn his moan into a more speculative sound, as if judging the quality of Severus's touch. “It’s hard to tell.” _Something_ was hard, alright. Harry bucked his hips, urging a more thorough demonstration on Severus’s part, all his former uneasiness draining away as they indulged in their usual playful banter. “I’d say you were … _adequate_.”   
  
       “Spiteful boy,” Severus murmured, punishing Harry for his poor choice in adjectives by removing his hand altogether, leaving Harry untouched, unsatisfied, and unable to tend to his own needs. Shadows rushed in to replace their retreating master, gliding over Harry’s skin and blanketing his body with their cool, misty bodies, but they were unable to assuage the inferno of heat and magic and dark energy that Severus’s initial touch had stirred within Harry.   
  
       “Prove me wrong, then,” Harry dared him. He understood all the vulnerabilities of his position: naked, hands bound above his head, legs spread wide as he lay in open display on the sheets – but he’d never felt more powerful as he watched the way Severus’s entire body tensed, those blacker-than-black eyes growing unbelievably darker with desire, both men knowing that it was only Harry who could strip away Severus’s hard-fought control with just a few words and a defiant grin.   
  
       Severus tilted his head, a small smile curving his lips when his shadows followed the arc of his gaze, curving a path down one of Harry’s hips, then swirling absently over the slight roundness of his stomach before being dismissed by their master’s silent command. He placed his hands on either side of Harry’s head, poised to strike but delaying the inevitable, mostly for the satisfaction of seeing Harry squirm eagerly beneath him.   
  
       “I don’t have to prove anything,” he said in a sultry baritone. “It’s obvious that you’re desperate for my ‘adequate’ touch. If you’re going to challenge me, make it worth my while …”   
  
       “You’re right,” Harry said, holding back his laughter as Severus’s shadows trickled down his sides and pooled on the bedsheets beneath him. So Severus wanted a _real_ challenge? Well, Harry wasn’t going to deny him. “I wouldn’t want to make this too easy for you.”  
  
       Without waiting for Severus to discover his intentions (sharing such a close connection meant he had to act quickly if he wanted to surprise him), Harry opened a threshold using the shadows on the bed and sank through the dark mass like a stone, as if the mattress had swallowed him whole. He didn’t fall for long – as soon as he disappeared completely into the void, his back hit the invisible boundary of Severus’s ward that sealed off the room. He lay in the pitch black of the void for a moment, catching his breath, expecting every second to have Severus’s hands reaching down to him from up above, but then he remembered that Severus was newly-turned and hadn’t learned how to move through the void yet.   
  
       [Ahh, I see I’ve found a weakness. Finally.] Harry pressed the wry statement into Severus’s increasingly frustrated mind.   
  
       [Very funny. Now get your arse back on this bed.]   
  
       [If you’d tied me up properly in the first place, I wouldn’t have escaped,] Harry taunted him, giving in to his urge to laugh as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, a little off-balance with his hands still tied together. [What’s the matter? Don’t think you can catch me?]   
  
       [Are we playing hide and seek, then?] The frustration had receded, replaced by a growing interest in the chase, but there was still an edge to Severus’s voice – a rough, ragged tone that echoed last night’s feral snarl and told Harry in no uncertain terms what Severus would do with him once he was ‘caught.’   
  
       Harry walked carefully through the magically-enclosed section of the void he’d fallen into, trying to judge space and direction while surrounded by impenetrable darkness. He relied heavily on the shadows around him to tug him this way or that, steering him to a suitable hiding place in the room where he could open a threshold and wait for Severus to ‘seek’ him. He wound up peering out of the shadows that lay between the large cherry-wood dresser and Harry’s own trunk; he would be invisible to even Severus’s eyes as long as he remained in the threshold. He had to stifle another chuckle when he saw how Severus had ripped the bedspread off the mattress and was now pacing around the room, running his hands through his long dark hair as he waited impatiently for some sign of Harry’s presence.   
  
       [Indulge me,] he whispered into Severus’s thoughts, smiling to himself at the way Severus closed his eyes and groaned as Harry’s seductive promise poured into his unguarded mind, [and I’ll let you pick the next game.]   
  
       [Ahh, a round of ‘Spank the Gryffindor,’ then? My favorite pastime …]   
  
       Harry’s cock twitched. He rather enjoyed that game too. Shaking away all thoughts of being bent over Severus’s knee, Harry tried to stay focused on hiding, but it was hard to ignore the stray fantasies that kept popping into his brain. Even now, he could practically feel the stinging slap of Severus’s hand against his bare bottom …   
  
       “ _Mmmm_ , I like the way you think, Potter.” Severus chose to murmur the words aloud, his half-lidded eyes glittering with wicked promise as he scanned the darkness of the room, searching for his runaway mate.   
  
       Harry shivered, struck by how mesmerizing that voice could be – had it always been so hypnotic? And the languid grace of his every movement – had that always been how Severus carried himself? Yes, he decided, those had been traits long before Severus became a Mori, but now everything he’d found sensual and alluring about him had intensified, as if the turning had brought out Severus’s true nature to its fullest.   
  
       Suddenly, a small wave of dark magic tumbled over his senses and sent Harry reeling – he might have fallen backwards into the void if it hadn’t been for his shadows’ support, but he barely had time to recover from the first assault when a second dose of potent magic sought him out, encircling and enveloping him, luring his own magic out to greet it.   
  
       _Cleverness should have its limits,_ Harry sulked, irritated that Severus had so easily deduced a way of searching for Harry that didn’t rely on sight or sound. Their magics were so attuned to each other, so perfectly aligned, that they created a magnetic connection between their respective masters. Hadn’t that been one of the ways Aiya described maranwe? _‘Magic calling magic’ …_   
  
       [Giving up already?] It was Severus’s turn to tease Harry, inching closer and closer to Harry’s hiding place, his inky gaze roaming blindly over the shadowy wall and sending a thrill through Harry whenever it fell on him. [I must be close … I can feel how excited you’re getting. Are you that eager for my touch?]   
  
       Harry couldn’t reign in the wild magic surging through his body, the darkness within responding to Severus’s call and urgently reaching out for him. The first caress of Harry’s dark energy against Severus’s skin sent a visible jolt through his body, his eyes flashing silver, his hands clenching into fists as he strove to restrain his primal instincts. His invasion of Harry’s thoughts deepened, deftly persuasive in his subliminal demands for Harry’s surrender, but Harry refused to just give in to the driving need to submit.   
  
       [I think you’d be disappointed if I gave up now,] he said as he turned his attention to the rope around his wrists. The rope itself wasn’t charmed, evidence that Severus wasn’t completely recovered from his turning since that was one precaution that should have come as second-nature to a strategist like him, so a simple cutting charm would free Harry ...  _if_ he could keep it simple. His magic was fluctuating so uncontrollably that he might end up casting a more powerful spell than necessary, and there was the added disadvantage of being both wandless and unable to speak the spell, but Harry felt confident that as long as he concentrated – _truly concentrated_ , like Severus was always badgering him to do – he could control the strength of the spell and cut the rope without slitting his own wrists in the process.   
  
       Steeling himself against the impulse to leap out of his threshold and pounce on Severus, Harry sent his shadows to distract Severus by mimicking movement in the dark corner a few feet away from where Harry hid, then he silently cast _diffindo_ to sever the rope around his wrists, escaping his bonds with only a small cut on his left hand from where his aim had gone off-center and the boosted power of the spell had grazed his skin.  
  
       _Damn,_ he thought, wincing as the wound began to bleed, several crimson droplets dripping from his hand to the floor, along with the severed piece of rope.  
  
       Severus turned his head sharply, abandoning his search of the corner to narrow-in on the fresh scent of blood that permeated the air. A variety of emotions were projected into Harry’s mind – first confusion, then concern, followed quickly by hunger and desire – but Severus was remarkably silent as he crouched down in front of Harry’s hiding place, ignoring the piece of rope as he touched two fingers to the spattering of blood on the floor.   
  
       “I would know that scent anywhere,” he whispered, then placed the bloodstained fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.   
  
       The euphoric expression that broke over Severus’s face transfixed Harry, freezing him to the spot so that he couldn’t have escaped even if he’d wanted to, and he contented himself with taking in the pleasurable sight of his mate, from the flush of color in Severus’s pale cheeks to the flecks of silver that glinted in the black depths of his eyes to the faint crimson stain on his lips.   
  
       [I’ve caught you,] came the husky but triumphant declaration as Severus reached into the shadows and grasped Harry’s injured hand, pulling him partway free of the threshold as he brought Harry’s hand to his mouth and slowly licked the blood from his skin, savoring the taste of him.   
  
       Harry groaned, forced to experience the same flare of bloodlust that flooded Severus’s veins as he succumbed to his basest instincts, dragging Harry into the abyss with him. They had shared each other in this way many times, but Harry could sense the subtle difference in the way Severus seemed fixated on Harry’s hand; he could easily imagine that, at some point in the far distant past, the Mori as a whole had been a bloodthirsty race, and the Shadowclaws – as close to a primitive Mori as one could get – had never quite lost that carnal appetite.   
  
       “ _Sweet Merlin_ … did you always smell this delicious?” Severus moaned as he tore himself away from Harry’s injured hand to bury his face against Harry’s stomach, breathing deeply of his scent. “Fresh … sweet … like ripe, red plums in summer.”   
  
       Harry lost his hold on the threshold, the shadows dispersing until his back was pressed against the cold wall, trapped against solid stone instead of hovering on the edge of the void. He slid his fingers into the fine silk of Severus’s hair then abruptly pulled back, startled by the unfamiliar texture; it was almost as if he was touching a different person.  
  
       Severus lifted his head and fixed his dark, penetrating stare on Harry’s face, his hands stroking gently up and down his thighs, as if he were trying to lull Harry into a false state of relaxation before moving in for the kill. Judging from the calculated gleam in his eyes, it was a reasonable assumption.   
  
       “I’ve changed my mind,” he said in a low, even tone that seemed at odds with his hands’ erratic exploration of Harry’s body; they moved up to his chest, then along his arms, then back to his sides, before reverently stroking over his stomach and abdomen (but always avoiding his groin, much to Harry’s disappointment), but perhaps it was being able to touch Harry freely that allowed Severus to speak so calmly as he confided his intentions. “Games will have to wait. First, I need to make sure you won’t get loose again.”   
  
       “That’s ridiculous! I’m not some escaped ani- _hey_!” Harry’s protest over being compared to a runaway pet was cut short when Severus suddenly stood up and hauled him into his arms, carrying Harry over to the bed and depositing him onto the rumpled sheets, then taking advantage of Harry’s disorientation to tie each of his hands to the bedposts with more of the leftover rope, sealing them with a charm this time, having learned from his previous mistake.   
  
       Severus eyed his handiwork with a soft hum of satisfaction, pleased by the picture Harry made – restrained but resisting; defenseless but defiant. Anyone else might have thought that the morion whose hands were securely bound to the bedposts was completely helpless, but Severus knew that Harry was just as wild and dangerous a creature as he was himself, and Severus’s dominance, while uncontested for the most part, was _not_ the result of having a weak partner.   
  
       [You’re perfect,] Severus purred, loosely grasping Harry’s straining cock and giving it a few leisurely strokes, [and you’re mine.]   
  
       Harry tried to reach out and pull Severus closer, wanting – no, _needing_ more physical contact with him than that one hand could provide, but the most he could do was tug in vain on the ropes around his wrists and buck his hips to show his frustration.   
  
       Severus smirked, pulling his hands away at the same time, chuckling softly at Harry’s groan of protest. “Do you want something, Potter?”   
  
       Harry huffed. So this was payback, eh? Leave it to Severus to rediscover his self-control just when Harry wanted him to lose it – but could Severus keep a tight grip on that control if it was tested? Only one way to find out …   
  
       Harry took advantage of his unbound ankles to lift his legs into the air, drawing them back against his chest, positioning his body in unmistakable invitation. A smile curved his lips when he felt Severus’s fingers suddenly digging into his hips. Severus no longer smirked as he stared down at Harry with a conflicted expression, as if he was fighting with all his strength to stay rational in the face of such an enticing offering. One more taunt and that icy composure would shatter …  
  
       “I want you to fuck me,” Harry said, feeling fairly close to feral himself, his eyes glowing a bright aquamarine.   
  
       Severus growled, grasping Harry’s hips tighter, grinding his erection against Harry's arse. A rush of pure dark energy jolted through Harry’s body, a mesh of darkness and heat and Severus’s powerful magic that forced a throaty cry from him as it penetrated his body, preparing him for Severus's first thrust, magically easing the way for what otherwise might have been a painful, vicious claiming.

      “Like this?” he snarled in Harry’s ear, slowly pulling out only to slam back into Harry’s arse, ripping another cry of pleasure from him. “Is this what you want?”   
  
       Harry wasn’t sure he could breathe properly, let alone talk, but he managed a strangled, “Yes,” his hands clenching as he fought against the ropes around his wrists.   
  
       Severus groaned and buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, his entire body shaking with the effort it took him to control himself as he continued to thrust slowly into Harry's body, easing his own fierce need by biting and sucking at Harry’s neck and shoulder, leaving purpling bruises in his wake. Harry couldn’t decide which delicious torment to focus on – those rough, steady thrusts or the sweet pain of teeth and tongue.   
  
       [Three days without you.] Severus’s voice was a low, rough rumble. He seemed determined to bury himself as deep inside Harry’s body as he could possibly go. [ _Three days_ of wanting you, needing you … even in my dreams, I couldn’t reach you, couldn’t touch you. I thought it would drive me mad …]  
  
       Harry closed his eyes as Severus unintentionally projected those tortured emotions into his vulnerable mind, sending him flashes of that gut-wrenching loneliness. He pulled harder at his restraints.   
  
       [All those voices in my head … _except yours_. I only wanted _yours_.] Severus punctuated that thought by sinking his teeth into the soft white flesh of Harry’s throat, drawing blood for the first time.   
  
       Harry gasped and came hard, coating both their bellies with hot, sticky come, the clenching of his muscles forcing a long, shaky moan from Severus as he grew very still, holding on to his control by a thread. He lapped tenderly at the wound he’d made, murmuring soothingly to him as Harry rode out the intensity of his release.   
  
       [Gods, you’re beautiful,] he purred, pulling back so he could look down at Harry, the dark depths of his eyes backlit by a new emotion – one Harry had often glimpsed in the past but could never name; it was something like the bone-deep ache of a sunny day, an inescapable, intrinsic pain, but there was hope there, too, and a kind of wonder.   
  
       Severus gently brushed his lips against Harry’s, staining them crimson, then drew back for another long look at him. He resumed the languorous pace of his thrusts, holding Harry’s gaze the entire time.   
  
       _… ove you. I lo …_  
  
       Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes shifting from feverish aquamarine to a vivid, vibrant emerald. Was he really hearing that whisper-soft confession? It was hard to analyze what he’d heard while being filled again and again with Severus’s relentless cock, and he quickly abandoned any attempt at rational thought as Severus plunged into him harder, faster, yet never broke eye contact with Harry, as if the connection between their bodies wasn’t enough to satisfy Severus – as if he had to capture Harry in every possible way.   
  
       _… you. I love you. Only you …_  
  
       Harry moaned and tugged again at the ropes around his wrists, desperate to touch Severus, to pull him close and whisper his own confession, and the strength of his pulls caused the posts to creak ominously. Severus seemed oblivious to the intimate declaration he was making, too focused on driving his cock deep into Harry’s arse to realize he’d laid his heart bare to him, but the professions only grew louder and more ardent as Severus’s thrusts grew erratic and he neared his own release, thoughts flowing from him in a steady stream as he pistoned wildly into Harry's body.   
  
       _Mine you’re mine only mine never leave me stay stay stay I love you stay …_  
  
       There was a sound of splintering wood and suddenly Harry’s hands were free; he reached up and pulled Severus down for a kiss, blotting out the expression of surprise that had spread over Severus's face.   
  
       “You broke the bed, Potter,” Severus accused him once Harry let him up for air, forced to slow his thrusts so he could catch his breath.   
  
       “That’s a … bit of an … exaggeration,” Harry choked out between moans as Severus renewed his vicious onslaught, angling his thrusts so that he stroked Harry’s sweet spot with each slam of his hips.   
  
       [You maimed it, at the very least,] Severus argued on, but then he abandoned that teasing murmur for a long, low groan, crushing his lips against Harry’s as his hips jerked and he came violently, never once slowing as he continued to thrust steadily into Harry until he’d emptied his cock of the last spurt of seed, moaning regretfully when he finally did withdraw his softening penis.  
  
       _… love you, I love you, I …_ was the constant refrain of his thoughts as he rolled onto his side and cradled Harry’s body against his own, burying his face against Harry's neck as he wrapped his arms around his waist.   
  
       _I love you, too,_ Harry made the softest of replies, and though he couldn’t be sure if Severus heard him, he was all-too-aware of the tightening of those arms around him as Severus held him close.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
       Sleep would come in snatches for Harry. He would drift to sleep for an hour, maybe two, then wake to the wet warmth of Severus’s mouth on his cock or the teasing probe of his tongue into Harry’s twitching pucker, and sleep would take a backseat to pleasure. He lost track of how many times Severus took him, filled by his cock so many times that he began to feel empty and incomplete without it. Harry learned the hard way just how much Severus loved to hear him scream; he lost his voice by the end of the second day, regained it at a particularly glorious moment on the third, then lost it again during ‘bath time.’   
  
       During those rare times when Severus would finally succumb to his own exhaustion, his arms wrapped around Harry in a possessive embrace even as he slept, Harry would fight off his drowsiness for the chance to study his sleeping mate. 

       One of the first things he noticed was the patch of raw, red skin on Severus's left forearm. The Dark Mark had disappeared completely, no trace left of the brand that had been an ever-present reminder of Severus's connection to Voldemort. Severus himself had seemed oblivious to that particular change so far, but Harry puzzled over it for several minutes until a velvet-voiced spirit - sounding so much like Severus that Harry shot his mate a suspicious look - slipped into his thoughts and explained that Severus's body had absorbed the dark elements of the magical brand during his change, which fractured the spell and allowed Severus's body to reject it entirely, leaving behind only a red rash that would fade in time. 

       _He is connected only to the Mori now_ , the spirit said, sounding just as relieved as Harry felt, and then he faded from Harry's mind, leaving him alone again to catalogue every new feature of Severus's changed form.  
  
       _He looks so young_. Harry marveled over how the years had fallen away from Severus, leaving him stuck somewhere between awkward teenager and world-weary adult; comparing him to the other morions that Harry knew, Severus looked older than Julian but younger than Rauko, perhaps somewhere in his early twenties.   
  
       But it wasn’t just regained youth that made Severus look so different. Mori symmetry had softened the stony, hawkish features that Harry had grown to love. He tried to discern any similarities between Severus and Julian, but all Harry could attribute to Julian was Severus’s high cheekbones, and that seemed too general of a Mori trait to give Julian the credit for it. What his features lacked in fae delicacy, Severus more than made up for in sheer magnetism – bold, arresting, striking; a perfect complement to Harry’s head-turning elfin beauty. Unlike the blue-black sheen of Harry’s hair (which he assumed he’d inherited from Aiya and Rauko), Severus’s silky mane was a stark, glossy black. With his dark, dark hair and fathomless black eyes, Severus was the living embodiment of the darkness he’d embraced, as if he’d been formed from that very element.   
  
       A stray shadow caressed Severus's cheek and he hummed contentedly in response, drawing Harry closer.   
  
       _The shadows adore him_. The thought amused Harry – who else in the world, besides himself, would ever find Severus Snape _adorable_?   
  
       What really confused Harry was how easily Severus had transitioned from human to Mori. He remembered how weak he had been after his own turning, when his legs hadn’t even supported him after first waking up, but Severus had been strong enough upon waking that Julian and Rauko had felt the need to tie him down. It was a startling difference that Harry couldn’t quite account for – except when he reasoned that fate had a hand to play in it.  
  
       _It’s like he was always meant to be a Mori_ , Harry thought to himself, smiling. He’d often felt that whatever darkness existed within himself longed for Severus with the same intensity as Harry’s own desire. Even Rauko had hinted that the darkness wanted Severus for its own, and his persistent campaign to have Severus turned now presented itself in a new light to Harry – and made him a little nervous. What did Rauko have planned for Severus? What new manipulations awaited them in the future now that Severus was a Mori, too? _Rauko’s up to something, I just know it._  
  
       [You worry too much,] Severus mumbled sleepily. He rolled over onto his back, taking Harry with him so that Harry lay sprawled over his body, and Harry could suddenly feel another part of Severus stirring awake.   
  
       [I thought you were sleeping,] he said with a provocative roll of his hips, chuckling softly when that subtle move tore a soft groan from Severus’s lips.   
  
       [Your very loud thoughts woke me up,] he grouched, nipping at Harry’s neck before tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling him down into a fierce kiss, swallowing all of Harry’s sounds of pleasure as he ravaged his already kiss-swollen lips, [and now sleep is the last thing on my mind.]   
  
       [Does this mean I get to be on top?] Harry didn’t bother to hide his own excitement, delighted to be back on top after hour upon hour of being pounded into the mattress … not that he’d _minded_ the domination – far from it – but his one experience of riding Severus’s cock had left him hungry for a repeat performance.   
  
       [Only if you admit I’m much more fun to ride than your broomstick,] Severus said, breaking the kiss, gazing up at Harry with a lazy smirk.   
  
       [No comparison,] Harry assured him, grinning as he repositioned himself, a soft moan escaping him as he settled himself inch by inch onto Severus's eager erection, placing one hand on Severus’s scarred chest to steady himself while he guided Severus’s cock into his pliant flesh with the other.   
  
       [We could always incorporate the broomstick later,] Severus suggested with a leer, running one hand up Harry’s chest while the other curled around his cock.   
  
       [Don’t even think about it,] Harry said sternly, though it was hard to maintain a strict expression while having his cock stroked so expertly.   
  
       [You make it impossible for me to think about anything but you,] Severus told him in a low, husky tone, and he set about proving to Harry that his broomstick was, indeed, the inferior ride.   
  
  
  


* * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
       Five days after first walking into that bedroom, Harry woke to an empty bed, his legs tangled in the sheets and his arms clutching Severus’s pillow to his chest, filling his senses with a musky, earthy scent. Tossing aside the substitute, Harry crawled out of bed in search of the origin of that scent, pausing only to slip into his crumpled pajama pants (which had been lying forgotten on the floor since Harry first threw them there) and a white t-shirt. He had no intention of dragging his aching body to class – was it even a weekday? He’d lost track of which day it was, but there was no point in lounging around in bed when Severus wasn’t there with him.   
  
       He opened the bedroom door only to be body-checked by a pint-sized whirlwind with blue eyes and an infectious giggle.   
  
       “You’re awake! Sev’rus said I couldn’t come see you until you woke up. Why did you have to sleep for so long?” Dorian, normally such a quiet child, could hardly contain himself as he hugged his little arms around Harry, standing on tiptoe as he clung tightly to him. “I missed you _so much_!”   
  
       Harry lifted Dorian into his arms and hugged him back, breathing in the refreshing scent of a wind-swept sea that could only belong to the lovable little boy he’d informally adopted. “I missed you, too. Did you have a good visit with your grandparents?”   
  
       Dorian nodded happily and launched into a lengthy description of his trip, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck as he let himself be carried into the sitting room where Julian lay half-asleep on the sofa with one arm flung over his face, a tattered paperback mystery novel clutched loosely in his other hand. Severus was nowhere in sight.   
  
       “… and then Nana told me that next time I had to bring you and Sev’rus and baby,” Dorian finished with a lively grin.   
  
       “I think that’s a very good idea,” Harry said, carefully lowering himself into the nearest armchair with Dorian on his lap. He wanted very much to meet Callie’s parents, as well as Andrew’s (though he didn’t know the situation there – were they Muggles? Or had they been turned as well?), but more than that, he definitely wanted to make sure that this adoption of Dorian was official and permanent. They’d been incredibly lucky so far that no one had disputed Rauko’s decision to allow Dorian to stay with Harry and Severus, but Harry wasn’t going to take any chances; the further along he got in his pregnancy, the more he realized that his paternal instincts towards both children were equally strong – biological or not, Dorian was his child, and he had no doubt that Severus felt the same way.   
  
       “What about Julian?” Harry glanced over at Julian, wondering if his current state of exhaustion stemmed from his role in turning Severus or from his role as Dorian’s sole playmate for the past few days – or a mixture of both? “Did you two have fun while Severus and I were – err, sleeping?”   
  
       Dorian paused, tapping a finger against his lips as he gave the question some thought, then he gave a little sigh and looked up at Harry with as serious an expression as he could portray on his cherubic face.   
  
       “We had fun … but Jules gets sad sometimes,” the moppet confided, using his mother’s old nickname for his cousin as he related what he believed was the cause of Julian’s unhappiness. “I think .. I think Jules wants a puppy. Can we get a puppy?”   
  
       _A puppy, eh?_ Harry couldn’t contain the snort of laughter that escaped him on hearing what was obviously Dorian’s wrong impression – he’d apparently gleaned something from his I-don’t-believe-in-barriers cousin and misconstrued Julian’s infatuation with Sirius as something else. Off to his right, he could sense Julian stirring out of his short nap and decided to play along with Dorian’s suggestion, raising his voice so that Julian could hear him, too. “Maybe. We’d have to ask Severus first, though, and I’m not sure he likes puppies as much as Julian does.”   
  
       [What is _that_ supposed to mean?] Julian sat up, wide awake now, running a hand through his hair as he squinted his sleepy brown eyes accusingly at Harry.   
  
       Harry avoided Julian’s question by asking one of his own. “Where _is_ Severus?”  
  
       “That lab of his – where else?” Julian stretched his arms over his head, then tossed his book onto the coffee table. “He locked himself in there two hours ago and that’s the last we saw of him, right, Dorian?”   
  
       Dorian nodded, adding, “Jules tried to fool me and say it wasn’t Sev’rus, but I knew him right away.”   
  
       “Can you believe that?” Julian laughed, reaching over to muss Dorian’s dark curls. “He didn’t even hesitate – ran straight into Severus’s arms the minute he laid eyes on him, despite all the changes. No one can fool our Dorian. Even _I_ can’t trick him, and my glamours are so strong that sometimes my own mother doesn’t recognize me.”   
  
       Harry grinned, remembering how Dorian had seen through Severus’s polyjuice disguise without a problem. Dorian had a talent for seeing past illusions, and his intuition was flawless when it came to identifying someone.   
  
       [Speaking of glamours, you might want to use one to cover those marks on your neck,] Julian advised him silently, his golden eyes dancing with mischief and mirth. [Your classmates may start asking questions.]   
  
       Harry touched his neck in alarm, having forgotten completely about Severus’s penchant for biting. He was grateful that the rest of the possessive marks on his body would be hidden beneath his clothes, as Severus had no qualms about sinking his teeth into the most embarrassing of places.   
  
       [Let them think what they want,] Harry said, tired of caring what the student population thought about him. His reputation had taken a nosedive lately, anyway, what with the insinuations in the Daily Prophet about his relationship with Severus after the professor’s ‘death,’ though it hadn’t done much to discourage his admirers from the usual camouflaged love potion or crowded hallway grope.   
  
       He was about to ask if anyone else was hungry (he, for one, was starving) but then the door to Severus’s potions lab swung open and Severus stuck out his head.   
  
       “Someone get the door. It’s Weasley and Granger.” Then he ducked back inside his lab and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving the other three to stare after him in puzzlement.   
  
       “What the hell was – ”   
  
       Julian’s rant was interrupted by a knock at the outer door, and Harry smirked.   
  
       “Looks like we have visitors.” He waited for Dorian to scramble down from his lap before standing up, walking at a leisurely pace towards the door while the four-year-old scampered on ahead.   
  
       [And what do we do before we open the door?] Harry stood back, letting Dorian handle the situation on his own. They’d talked with him several times about the dangers of answering the door, and they discovered over time that it was a good way to exercise Dorian’s instincts to let him approve or disapprove of whoever stood on the other side. That uncanny intuition of his had never failed him yet – he had a 100% success rate.   
  
       Dorian cleared his throat, then asked in a gruff imitation of his elders, “Who is it?”   
  
       "Hermione and Ron,” came the feminine answer, followed by a soft chuckle.   
  
       Harry grinned, but he didn’t open the door. Instead, he glanced down at Dorian, waiting for his seal of approval. “Well? Do you believe her?”   
  
       Dorian touched his hand to the door, appearing to concentrate very hard, then a smile broke over his face and he nodded. “Yup, it’s Auntie Miney.”   
  
       Another muffled chuckle, this time from Ron, and Harry opened the door and pulled his friends inside before quickly shutting the door behind them.   
  
       “So I take it that there are no classes today,” he said, self-consciously rubbing at his bruised neck when he saw how Ron was staring at him. He was starting to rethink his decision on glamours …   
  
       Ron shook himself, turning bright red, then looked away and muttered, “Of course not. It’s Saturday.”   
  
       “Right. Saturday.” Harry ran a hand through his mussed hair and headed back to his armchair, his friends trailing behind while Dorian ran back to the coloring book he’d been engrossed in before Harry’s emergence from the bedroom. Julian, sensing the three friends would have plenty to talk about, abandoned his place on the sofa to join Dorian on the rug.   
  
       “You’ve made the front page again,” Hermione said dryly, handing Harry a crinkled copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as she and Ron plopped down onto the sofa.   
  
       Harry eyed the paper with disgust. “What could they possibly be saying about me now?”   
  
       “Well, actually – ” Ron helpfully started to explain the situation, but then the lab door burst open again and Severus stalked out, dressed plainly in dark trousers and a black sweater, his long hair unbound and falling in a silky curtain past his shoulders.   
  
       “I need someone else’s blood,” he said, eyeing each of the other three morions in the room before he settled on Harry and grabbed his arm. “Just a few drops. Hold out your hand, Harry.”   
  
       Ron stared at Severus, wide-eyed and speechless, but it was Hermione’s reaction that made Harry laugh – a rosy blush stole into her cheeks, her brown eyes glazing over as she watched in rapt attention as Severus pricked Harry’s finger and collected a few drops of blood in a small, glass tube. She seemed completely absorbed by Severus’s presence, all thoughts of the _Daily Prophet_ long forgotten, and it wasn’t until Severus had disappeared back into his lab with a slam of the door that she woke from whatever spell she’d been under.   
  
       “Wh-who …” She cleared her throat and tried again, “Who was that, Harry?”  
  
       Harry and Ron stared at her incredulously. Julian’s shoulders quaked in silent laughter.   
  
       “Lord, she’s gone daft,” Ron muttered, “and over _Snape_ , of all people. That’s a blow to my pride that I’ll probably never recover from.”   
  
       “That was _Professor Snape_?” Hermione squeaked in disbelief. She glanced at Harry for confirmation, turning bright red when he grinned and nodded the affirmative.   
  
       “But he looks so … so …” her voice trailed off into a dreamy sigh.   
  
       “Your boyfriend is sitting right here!” Ron reminded her with an outraged expression. “Can you please moon over Snape later, when I don’t have to hear about it?”   
  
       “Don’t be silly, Ronald,” Hermione snapped. “I’m not mooning over anybody.”   
  
       Harry chuckled, reluctantly turning his attention to the copy of the _Daily_ Prophet in his hands. His own face stared up at him, a photo from his sixth year when he’d been ambushed by a reporter while shopping at Diagon Alley. He looked about as happy in that picture as he felt now reading the headline: **Harry Potter: Savior? Or Sociopath?**.   
  
       “Catchy title,” he said with a wry grin.   
  
       “The article’s a complete fabrication,” Hermione said, all business now that she didn’t have an un-dimmed Snape to distract her. “Wait. That’s not true. They got your _name_ right. After that, I think they decided to abandon fact for fiction.”   
  
       Harry refused to waste his time reading more lies about himself, so he looked to his two friends for a brief summary. “What are they accusing me of this time?”   
  
       “Let’s see – seducing Snape; seducing Aiya; convincing Aiya to seduce Draco so he would ‘join your side’; having Aiya kill Snape when he wouldn’t go along with your ‘evil plans’; conspiring with Aiya to kidnap Draco to use as a hostage in case she gets caught,” Ron ticked off the article’s main points on the fingers of one hand, paused for a breath, then continued on to the next hand, “casting love spells on your fellow students; manipulating Dumbledore so you can control Hogwarts; being a vampire or some other dangerous magical creature – not far off on that one, actually – oh! and you’re doing all this because you want to become the next You-Know-Who and take over the wizarding world.”   
  
       Harry flopped back in the armchair, a heavy dose of dread pooling in his stomach. He was used to this love/hate relationship the wizarding world seemed to have with him, but the lies in this article were shining a spotlight on Harry at the least convenient moment, and for anyone to connect him with Aiya was the last thing he wanted – for both their sakes. “How can they print this garbage?”   
  
       “They claim to have evidence and a reliable informant,” Hermione said quietly, “though they don’t name the source. It’s all circumstantial, of course. Somehow, they know about your private lessons with Aiya and your constant detentions with Snape, not to mention the fact that you have your own rooms separate from the other students and you’re always missing class, and then there’s your disappearance on the night the Shrieking Shack was vandalized _and_ your disappearance on Halloween. When you add it all together, Harry, it does make you look suspicious, and they really take advantage of that to ‘speculate’ on what you’ve been up to this year. The article doesn’t explicitly accuse you of any crime, but it makes a compelling case for the _possibility_ of your guilt.”   
  
       Harry chewed thoughtfully at his lower lip, then tossed the paper aside. “Okay, so they printed a lot of crazy rumors about me. What else is new?”   
  
       “This is serious, Harry,” Hermione said, retrieving the paper and stuffing it into her school bag. “If the Ministry acts on this information, they could have you brought in for questioning. Dumbledore wouldn’t be able to stop them. You’re an adult now, according to the wizarding world, so he wouldn’t be able to protect you.”   
  
       Harry sighed. When The Daily Prophet decided to attack him, they didn’t hold back: if he wasn’t a mentally-unstable egomaniac, he was a criminal mastermind trying to take over the world. Just for once, he’d appreciate a headline along the lines of **Harry Potter: Turns Out He’s Absolutely Ordinary After All**.  
  
       “There’s something else I want you to see.” Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out another newspaper, this time a Muggle publication. “I had Lisette send me the newspaper from where I live. I figured there might be something about the break-in at my house. The Aurors must have covered it up because there wasn’t any mention of it, but there _was_ an interesting mention in the police reports.”   
  
       She pointed to a small blurb on the second page. “The report says that an elderly man was discovered hiding in the bushes only two houses down from where I live. The man was disoriented and frightened, so they figured he must have wandered off from the local nursing home or something, but read the description, Harry.”   
  
       “A Caucasian male in his late 90s with a white beard and brown eyes, wearing a crystal pendant and dressed in a … chartreuse dressing gown?” Harry raised a brow. “What color is chartreuse?”   
  
       “Yellow,” Hermione answered impatiently, “but that’s not the point. It’s a _wizard_ they’re describing, Harry, and what’s more – I think that wizard is Nathaniel Culpepper.”   
  
       Julian looked up sharply from his joint coloring project with Dorian, listening to their chattering with a good deal more interest than he’d been showing a few minutes ago.   
  
       “Nathaniel Culpepper?” Harry rubbed at his temples, hoping to ward off the inevitable headache. “I don’t know, Hermione … that’s a big leap in logic, don’t you think?”   
  
       “I told her she was jumping to conclusions, but you know Hermione. Once she gets going …” Ron shrugged.   
  
       “This can’t be a coincidence,” Hermione insisted. “This man was discovered on the same night that my house was attacked, and it sounds like he was drugged recently or suffered some sort of head injury. We’ve thought all along that Culpepper might be in danger, right?”   
  
       “Right, but why would he go to your house? He writes to you at school, so he knows you’re not there, and fat lot of good your parents could do to help him,” Ron rattled off, then added quickly, “No offense.”   
  
       Hermione’s energy fizzled and she seemed to deflate. “I don’t know. If he was drugged or injured, he might not be in his right mind. I’m sure he knows where I live – he’s so thorough about everything, I imagine he made sure to learn all he could about me before trusting me with his research – so maybe this was an escape attempt, and he simply headed to somewhere that he could be absolutely sure to find an ally. Maybe he didn’t think of Hogwarts as safe for some reason.”   
  
       “We shouldn’t waste time with the ‘whys’ if we don’t even know for sure about the ‘who,’” Harry said, though his instincts were inclined to agree with Hermione at this point. Still, gut feelings weren’t concrete facts. “First, we need to find out if this really was Culpepper.”   
  
       “He hasn’t been reported missing yet,” Ron pointed out. “Hermione checks every day.”   
  
       “I don’t think we should rely on the Daily Prophet for accurate reporting,” Harry said with a bitter smile.   
  
       “I could find out for you.”   
  
       They all turned to look at Julian, who was still clutching a crayon in his hand though it was obvious he’d been too busy eavesdropping on their conversation to color anything.   
  
       “I do happen to work in law enforcement, remember?” He wore a casual grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Friends in high places, and all that.”  
  
       “That would be amazing, Julian!” Hermione gushed.   
  
       “Yeah, amazing,” Harry echoed, but something about Julian’s tense posture and forced smile felt off to him. He gingerly prodded at Julian’s mind but found him just as open as ever, though the brush of Harry’s mind against his own seemed to startle Julian. Their eyes met, a lopsided smile curving Julian’s lips, and Harry felt ashamed that he’d been suspicious of his motives when it was obvious he just wanted to help. Dealing with Rauko so much lately had led him to think everyone had an agenda …   
  
       “I’ll make some inquiries, then,” Julian said, glancing one last time at Harry before turning back to the coloring book, letting Dorian instruct him on which part to color next.   
  
       “If anything,” Harry resumed their conversation, “Culpepper’s involvement would explain why Hermione’s house was targeted. Maybe whoever attacked her house was looking for _Culpepper_.”   
  
       Hermione nodded, tucking the newspaper back into her bag. “He’d be a valuable source of information to whoever controlled him. The question is, was it really Death Eaters who attacked my house? Or someone else?”   
  
       “ _My_ question is,” Ron interjected angrily, “when is that someone going to decide that Hermione is just as valuable as Culpepper and try to kidnap her as well?”   
  
       Harry and Hermione stared at him, surprised by this burst of emotion, and Hermione was quick to console him.   
  
       “Not going to happen,” she said, threading her fingers with his. “After all, I have you to protect me, don't I?”   
  
       Ron blushed and refused to answer yes or no, but he did give her hand a squeeze as he cleared his throat and changed the subject, drawing Harry into a spirited debate over whether the news of Ravenclaw's new broomsticks would worsen Gryffindor’s chances at a win come January.   
  
  
  


* * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
       Harry felt vulnerable as he worked alone in Potions class the following Monday, devoid of both a deskmate and his faithful ‘shadow.’ Julian’s focus had naturally turned to teaching Severus everything he would need to know in order to take over Julian’s post as Harry’s constant guardian, and until now Harry had enjoyed being allowed a day of independence (though he could have done without Severus’s constant disapproval lingering in the back of his mind all day), but as soon as he’d sat down in Potions, that feeling of dread had crept back into his consciousness, setting his instincts on edge.   
  
       Hermione and Ron kept shooting anxious glances at him, while others in the class regarded him with either suspicion or amusement, but Harry suffered most under the composed, perceptive stare of Xander Lyr. He could feel the professor’s gaze falling on him with alarming regularity and it was terribly distracting. He hunched over in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. To complicate matters, he found himself caught in the middle of a _spirited_ debate that stemmed from differing opinions on Harry’s continued enrollment at the wizarding school.   
  
       _Why must he bother attending these classes? What possible use could they be?_ This from a younger male spirit whose bitter tone suggested a distaste for wizardry in general. _He has a mate now, as well as a young one on the way … why must these wizard-taught classes be a priority?_  
  
       _Not all of us think it wise to be ignorant of the world around us – and that includes the wizarding world_ , was the low, laconic retort of one of his elders. There was a bite to this voice that reminded Harry of his mate, and he realized it was the same spirit who'd spoken to him during his time locked away with Severus. _Leave the boy alone. He needs to concentrate._   
  
       _You will have to choose,_ the other voice persisted, speaking directly to Harry now. _You cannot have both worlds._   
  
       Harry angrily shoved the voice out of his head and barricaded his mind against any further discussion, though he felt a twinge of guilt for also pushing away the voice that had defended him. The Mori spirits had resumed their talkative ways after Severus’s turning, but Severus had refused to tolerate them right from the start (“aside from a select few who actually make sense,” he had explained testily) and so now the rest of them were doubly focused on Harry, giving him twice the advice and twice the headaches – but he had to admit that, aside from his latest harasser, the quality of these impromptu discussions had improved drastically, evolving from irritatingly vague commentary to concise, specific nuggets of wisdom that more often than not proved useful (a female spirit’s suggestion of drinking a glass of belladonna-spiked tomato juice for breakfast every day did wonders to cure Harry of his morning sickness).   
  
       [Is there a reason you’re blocking me?] Severus forced his way past the walls in Harry’s mind, though it was to Harry's secret satisfaction that Severus had to work hard to make himself heard. Harry had worried that a turned Severus would leave him helpless against the onslaught of his lover’s powerful mind, but his own barriers had held strong despite the equalizing factor of Severus becoming a Mori.   
  
       [I’m not blocking _you_ , I’m blocking the spirits.] This explanation appeased Severus, though once the lines of communication were opened between them it was hard for either of them to simply fall back into silence. Harry started to ask how Severus’s training was progressing, but he suddenly became very aware of a tall figure leaning over his shoulder to examine his potion, and he cringed as he realized he’d let Lyr sneak up on him unexpectedly.   
  
       “This is wrong, Potter. Your potion should be red and bubbling by now, but – ” The professor gestured to the thick, greenish-brown muck in Harry’s cauldron.   
  
       “I added everything just like you said,” Harry protested. He’d been very careful, following the directions to the letter, but for some reason the potion had gone all ‘moldy’ on him. If Draco had still been around, Harry would have accused him of sabotage, but other than his old rival, who would want to see Harry’s potion fail?   
  
       Lyr smiled, laying his hand on Harry’s shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort, seemingly unaware of the way Harry flinched at the unwanted touch.   
  
       “A minor alteration could save it,” he said. “Fetch some pyracantha berries from the storeroom. They are on the second shelf on the right, next to the lacewing flies.”   
  
       Hermione, who had been watching this exchange with a puzzled frown, turned pale and gestured at Harry not to go, but Harry was all-too-eager to put distance between himself and his professor, so he didn’t see his friend’s warning as he hurried off to fetch the orange-red berries.   
  
       “Is there something you need, Miss Granger?” Lyr turned his sharp blue gaze on Hermione and she shrank back into her seat, shaking her head.   
  
       “No, sir. Nothing.” She waited until Lyr had turned away before poking Ron in the side and whispering frantically in his ear.   
  
       When Harry returned to his seat, he sat the berries on his desk but didn’t have a clue about what to do next. He looked at Lyr for directions; Lyr smiled and made chopping motions with his hand. Harry nodded and began to chop the small berries, staining his fingers with the fragrant juice in the process. The oozing berries made more of a mess than Harry had anticipated, dripping down his fingers and his palms in warm, sticky trails that left his skin hot and tingling.  
  
       _These aren’t toxic, are they?_ he belatedly asked himself, cursing himself for not being more careful. Then again, Professor Lyr hadn’t told him he needed to handle the pyracantha with gloves, so surely the berries weren’t harmful – right?   
  
       _Do you guys know anything about pyracantha?_ he asked, opening his mind to the same spirits he’d only recently forced out.   
  
       _Pyracantha? What’s pyracantha?_  
  
       _Doesn’t sound familiar …_  
  
       The burning, itching sensation grew stronger and Harry’s heart started to pound.   
  
       _He means **firethorn** , you dolts,_ said the male spirit who’d defended Harry earlier, the sarcasm in his voice softening into concern when he directed his next words to Harry. _Firethorn berries are poisonous to the Mori and the juice can be corrosive when it comes into contact with the skin. You need to wash your hands as soon as possible._   
  
       Harry’s knife fell to the desktop with a loud clatter, all eyes turning to him as he shakily stood up, rubbing his hands against his robes in an effort to get the juice off. In the back of his mind, he could hear Severus demanding to know what was wrong.   
  
       Hermione was instantly at his side.   
  
       “Here, give me your hands.” She tapped her wand against his palms, water trickling from the tip and rinsing all traces of the fiery juice from his skin. Unfortunately, the damage had been done, and Harry’s hands were red and raw from his reaction to the pyracantha.   
  
       “Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said loudly enough for the entire class to hear, “how could you forget about your allergy to pyracantha?”   
  
       Harry didn’t miss a beat. “Right. Sorry, Hermione, it just slipped my mind.”   
  
       Lyr raised a brow at their little display, clearly not fooled, but the rest of the class had turned back to their potions already, anxious to finish before class ended.   
  
       “I’ll just add these for you,” Hermione said, scooping up the chopped berries and dropping them into the muddy potion. She then leaned over and whispered into Harry’s ear, “Stir thirteen times counterclockwise, then stir it clockwise until it turns red and starts to bubble. _Don’t_ inhale any of the fumes – you’ll get sick if you do.”   
  
       [Harry, _what happened_?] Severus, tired of being ignored, barged his way into Harry’s thoughts.   
  
       “Do you need to go to the infirmary, Mr. Potter?” Professor Lyr had taken Hermione’s place at Harry’s side and was now examining Harry’s blistered palms with curiosity rather than concern.   
  
       “No, sir.” Harry pulled his hands away and reached for his wand, barely able to grasp it but resolved to cover his pain with a smile as he looked up at Lyr. At the same time, he reassured Severus, [Just an accident in Potions. Nothing to worry about. Class is almost over, so I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.]   
  
       Lyr squinted his arctic-blue eyes at Harry, his smile a little less charming and a lot more calculated. “Five minutes, then, Potter. Let’s see if you can save that potion of yours.”   
  
       Harry’s hands throbbed, but he managed to concentrate on his potion despite the pain, following Hermione’s advice with renewed determination. By the end of class he’d only managed to turn his potion a dark orange color that burped and sputtered instead of bubbled, but it was enough of an improvement to squeak by with a passing grade.   
  
       “Harry, I don’t think that was an accident,” Hermione whispered to him as they collected their things and started walking towards the door. “I think he deliberately picked a plant that needs full sun exposure to flourish. There are at least two other ingredients that Professor Lyr could have suggested to add to your potion to fix it, both of which have a more stable magical influence than pyracantha. Do you think he might suspect that you’re a – ”   
  
       “Mr. Potter, could you stay after class? I was hoping to talk to you about your recent absence.”   
  
       Harry froze, a mere five or six steps away from freedom.   
  
       “No, Harry,” Hermione hissed at him, grabbing the sleeve of his robe and giving it a tug. “You’re caught up on the assignments and Dumbledore already explained away your absence to all the teachers. There’s no reason for him to talk to you about it.”   
  
       “Encouraging me to ignore a teacher?” Harry smiled at his friend, downplaying the situation, but just the thought of being alone in a room with Lyr made Harry want to bolt from the classroom.   
  
       “When it’s in your best interests? Yes.” Hermione yanked on Harry’s sleeve again.   
  
       “Is there a problem?” Lyr leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
       “If he doesn’t stay, it’ll look suspicious,” Ron said quietly, pulling his girlfriend away from Harry and dragging her out the door, but his mouth tightened into a grim expression as he glanced back at Harry. He may not have had a Mori’s talent for silent communication, but the somber look Ron gave Harry made it absolutely clear that he wanted him to be on his guard around Lyr.   
  
       Squaring his shoulders, Harry turned on his heel and forced himself to cross the distance back to where Lyr stood. He stared at him expectantly, careful to not to give himself away, hanging on to his dimming for dear life. “Yes, professor?”   
  
       “I just want us to have a short chat, Potter. Sit here,” Lyr said, pulling up a seat for Harry next to his desk, “and I’ll be right back with something for your hands.”   
  
       “That’s not necessary,” Harry said, wearing a weak smile on his ashen face, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he made every effort to hide both his discomfort and his instinct-triggered panic.   
  
       “Allergic reactions can be serious, Mr. Potter. Wait here.” Lyr waited until Harry had slumped into the indicated chair before he disappeared into the storeroom.  
  
       _We don’t like this one_ , a Mori spirit grumbled into Harry’s ear. _He isn’t what he appears to be._   
  
       _Thanks for the reassurance_ , Harry shot back.   
  
       _He has different faces,_ came a childish voice’s cryptic comment, _like a clown_.   
  
       Harry shuddered, that panicked feeling worsening as he imagined Lyr ripping off once face to reveal another, repulsed when he pictured Voldemort’s face beneath the mask or – and this somehow seemed worse – Lucius’s face. _Enough creepy talk, thanks._   
  
       _You have to control yourself, Harry. Your instincts are telling you to run, to protect your child – but if this man provokes you, they might tell you to attack. Can you promise me that you can fight your instincts? If you can’t, you must leave. Now._  
  
       Harry took a deep breath, effectively calmed by the low voice that rumbled in his mind. He was starting to grow attached to this particular spirit – it didn’t hurt that the voice echoed Severus’s rich baritone – and he found himself wanting to prove he could handle facing Lyr on his own, despite the way his instincts were going haywire. _I can control myself._   
  
       _That’s my boy,_ the spirit said, then everything went very quiet in Harry’s head and he was alone in the room with only his own thoughts for company. He used the rare moment of solitude to focus on the problem of his nosy professor.  
  
       _Think it out, Harry._ He told himself, trying to be logical about the whole thing. _Supposing that Hermione is right, no one would suspect you of being a Mori out of the blue. Most people don’t even believe the Mori exist anymore. Does that mean Lyr is working for Voldemort?_  
  
       He looked down at his hands, his palms swollen and red. The burning pain had faded to a dull throb, but it still hurt to close his hands into fists or grab anything; just holding his wand during the last five minutes of class had been pure agony. It certainly seemed like Voldemort’s style if Lyr had decided to conduct such a drastic (and potentially dangerous) experiment on Harry, when _surely_ there were other, more humane ways to ‘out’ a Mori.   
  
       _Like casting the Killing Curse?_  
  
       Harry wasn’t sure if that was his own inner voice or a return of the spirits, but the question was disturbing no matter who asked it. It hadn’t been so long ago that Severus was the victim of an ‘experiment’ to see if he was a Mori or not, and the method of conducting that experiment had been just as cruel. Was there a connection between the failed Killing Curse that injured Severus and Harry’s current situation? Could Professor Lyr be –   
  
       “Sometimes the simplest remedy is the best,” Lyr said as he closed the storeroom door behind him, a piece of thick, green plant in his hand. He maneuvered his chair so he was sitting right in front of Harry, then sat down and reached for Harry's hands. “Palms up, Potter. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”   
  
       Harry evaded his grasp. “What is it?”   
  
       Lyr stared at him in surprise, as if not accustomed to this level of distrust from one of his students, but then a strange smile curved his lips and he answered, “This is a piece of aloe vera plant. The aloe should help with any discomfort you’re feeling.”   
  
       Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I thought aloe was for burns. What makes you think I’ve been _burned_ , professor?”   
  
       The smile slipped, but only for an instant. “Aloe has many different healing properties, Potter. Now, hold out your hands.”   
  
       Harry hesitated, then held out his hands, cursing the slight tremble in his fingers from where dark energy was accumulating at an alarming rate. One false move on Lyr’s part and Harry might just blow the man up.   
  
       Lyr squeezed the aloe directly onto Harry’s hands, then began to spread it over his palms without much regard for Harry’s tender, blistered skin. Harry contained all his winces of pain behind a stoic mask, looking on the bright side – the cooling gel-like substance _did_ do wonders for his general discomfort despite the lack of a gentle touch from his professor, though he wished the treatment didn’t include the necessity of letting Lyr touch him.   
  
       “What bad luck, something like this happening your first day back to class,” Lyr said, amiable as always. Harry was beginning to sense something unnatural behind all that incessant cheerfulness.   
  
       “It’s the only kind of luck I have,” he said, gritting his teeth as Lyr pressed harder on his palms.   
  
       “I disagree.” Lyr’s smile widened. “You survived a Killing Curse. Your very existence is a testament to how lucky you are.”   
  
       “That wasn’t luck,” Harry said, shaking off Lyr’s hands as soon as the last of the aloe had been vigorously rubbed into his skin. “My mother is the reason I survived, not luck.”   
  
       “My mistake,” Lyr conceded softly, watching Harry closely. He pulled a handkerchief out of thin air and wiped his hands. Harry glimpsed the monogram **_AVL_** stitched in black on the white fabric before Lyr banished it again. “I, too, have lost someone close to me. My brother died nineteen years ago in an unfortunate accident, leaving behind a young son of his own.”   
  
       Harry looked away, uncomfortable with the personal turn this conversation was taking. He vaguely remembered Hermione telling him that Lyr’s brother had died, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the child who’d grown up without a father, and even for Lyr – he knew how terrible it would be for him to lose Aiya, so how could he help but empathize with his professor?   
  
       “You said you wanted to talk to me about my absence last week,” Harry said abruptly, hoping it would cut their conversation short if he forced Lyr to get to the point.   
  
       “Did I?” Lyr folded his hands in his lap, still smiling that placid smile.   
  
       Harry curled his hands into fists to hide the tremors that quaked through them over such a frustrating remark. Was Lyr provoking him on purpose?   
  
       “Yes, but if you’ve changed your mind, I’d like to go start on my homework now.” Harry started to stand up.   
  
       “I haven’t dismissed you yet, Mr. Potter.”   
  
       Harry sighed and sat back down. His only consolation was that he’d wiped that annoying smile off of Lyr’s face.   
  
       “I find it hard to believe,” Lyr began, shedding his lighthearted façade as his arctic eyes captured Harry’s gaze, “that a student with a severe allergy to pyracantha would ‘forget’ about it so easily. I’ve never seen such a violent reaction to topical contact with pyracantha berries … not in a human, at any rate.”   
  
       Harry didn’t even blink. He’d been interrogated by the best during his years at Hogwarts – Lyr’s tactics were amateurish compared to a grilling from Severus.   
  
       “Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it’s not possible,” Harry said evenly, betraying nothing. This staring contest he was having with Lyr was wreaking havoc on his instincts, and a dull but nagging pain was pulsing away at his temples in a beat so steady that Harry couldn’t dismiss it as a normal headache. He wondered if Severus was trying to beat through his barriers again, then realized that his connection to Severus was as clear and open as ever – so what was the cause of all that pressure?   
  
       “Come now, Mr. Potter. I know when a student is hiding something from me. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to unburden yourself? I’m an excellent listener.”   
  
       Lyr’s ice-blue gaze was probing, searching, and Harry was suddenly reminded of his Occlumency lessons with Severus.   
  
       _He’s trying to read me_ , Harry realized, and he strengthened his barriers so quickly, so forcefully, that he saw Lyr’s head snap back in response, a dazed but almost triumphant expression stealing over his thin face.   
  
       “I see you are no stranger to the art of Occlumency,” Lyr murmured, bringing a shaking hand to his forehead as he recovered from Harry’s defensive ‘push.’ “Tell me, Mr. Potter, how does a seventeen-year-old wizard master Occlumency?”   
  
       “Snape taught me,” Harry said, wishing now that he hadn’t been so aggressive. _This_ was why he needed to stay calm – every move he made was amplified by the energy amassing in his body, so that his smallest instinctive reactions were magnified to dangerous levels.   
  
       “I don’t think you needed lessons.” That calculating gleam was back in Lyr’s eyes. “I think Occlumency, for you, is as natural as breathing.”   
  
       “You can think whatever you want,” Harry said, rising to his feet. He didn’t care if he got in trouble – he wasn’t going to risk staying in this room for a minute longer.   
  
       Lyr stood as well, surprising Harry by reaching out to brush Harry's hair away from his ears, grasping his chin and turning his face this way and that, reminiscent of the way Lucius had studied Callie during Harry’s vision, and then Harry himself during their run-in at the school. As Lyr pulled him closer, Harry could smell magic radiating from him; there was something familiar to that magical scent – he knew he’d smelled it somewhere else, but he couldn’t remember where.   
  
       “Let go of me,” Harry snarled, nearly losing his dimming, every muscle tensed for attack, but then something warm and heavy settled in his shadow and Severus’s voice was in his mind, calming him.   
  
       [Breathe, Harry. You can’t afford to expose yourself to this man.]   
  
       [It doesn’t matter – he already knows!] Harry backed away from a stone-faced Lyr, tripping over his own bag and spilling its contents all over the floor. He bent down and stuffed his belongings back into the bag. [He thinks I’m a Mori, I’m sure of it.]   
  
       [That’s no reason to confirm it for him.] For the most part, Severus projected a cold, logical view of the situation, but several of his stray thoughts whirled through Harry’s mind, including an acute attack of déjà vu as Severus tried to remember where he’d seen Lyr’s face before.   
  
       “You look pale, Mr. Potter,” Lyr said, slipping back into his usual congenial manner, acting as if nothing uncommon had just occurred. “We can continue this discussion another time.”   
  
       _Like hell we will_ , Harry thought, and Severus echoed the sentiment wholeheartedly.   
  
       Slinging his bag onto his shoulder, Harry turned and walked out of the classroom without any word of farewell or acknowledgment of Lyr’s remarks, that sick, panicky feeling easing with every step he took away from his professor.   
  
       [We’re leaving here tonight,] Severus snarled. Now that Harry’s own stress levels were dropping, Severus felt free to express his anger at what he took as an open threat to his mate and his unborn child. [Rauko was right – it was foolish to come back.]   
  
       Harry scowled. [Don’t you dare tell Rauko he was right about _anything_. I don’t mind leaving early, but won’t that look even more suspicious?]   
  
       [It won’t matter what it looks like once you’re safely hidden,] Severus reasoned.   
  
       [This isn’t exactly how I wanted my last year at Hogwarts to end,] Harry said with a sigh, rubbing his stomach. He’d nearly reached the end of the long corridor and was preparing to turn left towards his rooms when he felt a prickle of nervous energy along his spine, his skin breaking out in goose bumps.   
  
       Severus sensed the change in him. [Harry? What is it? Is something wro- ]   
  
       “Mr. Potter!”   
  
       Harry froze in his steps for the second time that day, silently letting off a stream of expletives (most of which he’d picked up from Julian, the Picasso of creative swearing) as he cursed his unquestionably bad luck.   
  
       [Language, Potter,] Severus admonished him flatly, but Harry could sense the undercurrent of repressed aggression seething beneath the surface of his outwardly calm mate.   
  
       Harry sighed and turned to see Professor Lyr walking towards him with what looked like a small square of paper in his hand.   
  
       “Is there something else you wanted to ask me, Professor?” Harry channeled Severus’s aloof disposition, extremely cautious around Lyr now that he knew Lyr suspected he was a Mori.   
  
       “You left this behind in my classroom,” Lyr said, exuding all the charm and graciousness that he was known for among his students, but Harry wasn’t taken in – he thought Lyr looked a little smug, but he wasn’t sure why until he looked down to see what it was that Lyr accused him of forgetting.   
  
       The smiling face of his mother stared up at him as Lyr held out the childhood photo of Lily that Harry carried with him everywhere. It had likely fallen out of his school bag when he’d tripped over it earlier, and it chilled Harry to think how close he’d come to losing it completely. Within the shelter of Harry’s shadow, Severus was eerily quiet.   
  
       “Umm, thanks,” Harry said, snatching the photo out of Lyr’s hand.   
  
       “You should take better care of something so valuable,” Lyr said smoothly, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he once again studied Harry’s face.   
  
       “It’s just a picture,” Harry said dismissively. He wondered if Lyr realized the significance of what was scrawled on the back of the photo – was that why the man looked so smug?   
  
       “When you lose someone you love, a picture of that person can become the most precious thing in the world,” Lyr carried on pleasantly, speaking softly now, a genuine warmth creeping into his voice. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Harry.”  
  
       Harry tucked the photo back into his bag and hoisted its feather-light weight onto his shoulder with an air of indifference. He wasn’t going to let this man sweet-talk him into remaining in his presence for a second longer than necessary. “Thank you for returning it, sir. Was there anything else you needed?”   
  
       Lyr grinned, his blue eyes flashing with unspoken amusement, but he only shook his head and uttered a gentle, “No, Mr. Potter. You are free to go.”   
  
       Harry nodded, then turned away, walking as fast as decorum allowed in an effort to put as much distance as possible between himself and Xander Lyr. 

 


	46. Claiming Sirius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** This is another one-shot that became integrated into the story, hence the POV is limited to Sirius and Julian. This one contains a lot more plot than the first one, so I don't recommend skipping it entirely. The end of this chapter and the beginning of the next chapter tie in together, so you'll be getting a couple of scenes from two different POVs. 
> 
> **TW:** We run the full gamut of consent in this chapter.
> 
> -x-X-x- This chapter is dedicated to Kei, who has been a wonderful supporter and an inspiration. Thank you for everything! You are amazing! -x-X-x-

_He’s here. I can smell him. Gods, he smells so good. I just want to hold him down and lick him all over._  
  
     "Julian!"  
  
     Julian broke out of his musings to glance over at a pink-cheeked Harry, who was mortified and glaring at him, while Severus, to his right, simply looked disgusted. They were standing in the front hall of Grimmauld Place, having just arrived from the school after a last minute decision to remove Harry from Hogwarts a little earlier than scheduled.  
  
     "Ah, sorry. Was I projecting?" Julian asked sheepishly. He was deep in the throes of his breeding cycle now, and the pressure of keeping his instincts leashed was starting to wear on both mind and body.  
  
     Dorian, who had been clinging to Severus’s pants leg, didn’t seem to have overheard Julian’s thoughts like the others; he ran off, lured by the smell of fresh-baked bread coming from the kitchen. Upon his departure, Severus turned on Julian with a growl.  
  
     "No one will be licking anybody if I can help it," he snapped.  
  
     "There goes _my_ holiday," Harry muttered, having recovered enough from his embarrassment to crack a joke, but Severus pretended not to hear.  
  
     "Keep that tongue of yours in your mouth where it belongs," he snapped, sounding like the older brother when really it was the other way around. "This unhealthy fixation on Black has got to stop, Julian. Didn’t we already have this discussion?"  
  
     "I seem to recall something about a ‘filthy mutt’ and a threat to obliviate all memories of Sirius out of my ‘lust-addled brain’ if I didn’t wise up to your oh-so-excellent advice, but honestly, Severus, after that all I can remember is ‘blah, blah, blah, keep it in your pants.’"  
  
     Harry snorted. "Rather hypocritical coming from the man who spent nearly a week without any pants on at all."  
  
     "I didn’t hear _you_ complaining about it," Severus purred into his mate’s ear, sliding an arm around Harry’s waist and pulling him close.  
  
     "Maybe his mouth was full," Julian said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows, earning him a repeat of the twin glares he’d received earlier, neither Harry nor Severus appreciating his subtle (but still dirty) joke. He shrugged and started walking further into the house. "Well, _I_ thought it was funny."  
  
     [Not a step farther.]  
  
     The whispered command froze Julian in his steps, much to his chagrin, though he did spare a chuckle when his unexpected pause caused Harry to bump face-first into his back.  
  
     "Why’d you stop?" Harry side-stepped him, shooting him a curious glance.  
  
     [What possessed you to come here in your condition?]  
  
     "Why is _he_ here?" Severus asked, instantly aware of the source of Julian’s predicament, but only because he had no qualms about delving into his brother’s open mind whenever he felt like it (though, with all the naughty fantasies Julian had been harboring lately, Severus had been keeping his distance mentally for the most part).  
  
     "Who? Who is here?" Harry’s curiosity was bordering on frustration now, as none of his questions were receiving answers.  
  
     [Shall I find you a pretty one to ease yourself with?]  
  
     Julian’s eyes darkened to a deep brown, his good mood shriveling after such an unappealing offer. He turned to Harry with a forced grin.  
  
     "Remember those three days of hell when you and Severus were separated?" Julian spoke softly, calmly, with no hint of his devious intentions. He waited for Harry’s nod before continuing. "Well, you were right to question it, Harry. As his mate, you had every right to be by Severus’s side for those three days, but Rauko chose to keep you two apart, knowing how painful it would be. In fact, the only reason Severus became so violent was precisely because you weren’t with him."  
  
     [Oh, now, that was uncalled for …]  
  
     [Nothing less than what you deserve,] Julian replied, capping his revenge with a nod down the hall towards the kitchen as he told a now-livid Harry, "You should go give him a piece of your mind."  
  
     Harry stomped off, prepared to do just that, but Severus looked as unruffled as always as he followed at a slower pace, glancing over his shoulder at Julian to say, [Remember what I said about Black. He’s nothing but trouble.]  
  
     Julian relaxed, his grin widening. [And that’s supposed to discourage me?]  
  
     [I can always hope,] was Severus’s dry reply, and then he was gone, off to chaperone the inevitable showdown between Rauko and Harry.  
  
     Julian was glad to see Severus back to normal. He admired his new brother’s effortless self-control, and it had been disturbing to see that control shatter during the days when Severus and Harry were kept apart. The only lingering ill-effect of Rauko’s decision could be seen in the way Severus rarely let Harry leave his side, a telling sign of just how deep Severus’s possessive instincts ran. Julian still wasn’t sure what purpose it had served to keep Severus isolated like that, but Rauko wasn’t volunteering any information and it was damn near impossible to pry anything out of that fortress of a mind against Rauko’s will.  
  
 _Not that I’d want to take a tour of his brain anytime soon_ , Julian thought with a grin, imagining all sorts of horrors lurking in the dark recesses of Rauko’s mind. He tried moving his feet, meeting strong resistance at first, but then a loud crash sounded down the hall and suddenly Julian’s body was his own again.  
  
     "Bless you, Harry," he murmured, shaking the numbness from his hands as he emerged from Rauko’s particularly unpleasant form of imprisonment. He knew his ‘condition’ left him far more susceptible to Rauko’s tricks than usual, and having an open and undefended mind didn’t help matters, but Julian couldn’t bring himself to care now that he’d won his freedom (thanks to Harry) and could once more bask in the deliciously masculine scent that permeated the entire house.  
  
     He slipped out of his coat and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, sweltering even in the cold, drafty entryway of the old house. Julian couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so affected by his breeding cycle – in fact, he’d always endured them with minimal discomfort, the need to sate his hunger with a willing friend dying down as the years went by, until he’d reached a point where he could go an entire cycle without a sexual partner to curb his appetite. His brothers - all of them older, all of them with mates and children of their own – often taunted him about his lack of Shadowclaw drive, so laid-back and light-hearted that he was often mistaken for a Darkshine or even a Duskwise.  
  
 _Hmm, yes, but when the beast inside you escapes its leash_ …, the Mori spirit trailed off, his comment taken up by another:  
  
     … _our sweet Julian becomes a wildcat._  
  
 _A pity he’s gone and chosen a wizard_ , a female voice spoke up. _All those years of rejecting perfectly good offers_ –  
  
 _Hmph. You’re just bitter because he didn’t choose your grandson_ , the first voice interrupted with a chortle.  
  
     – _**exceedingly** good offers_ , the spirit said firmly, _and now he decides he wants to mate a wizard. And not only that, but a pureblood. Madness!_  
  
     Julian chuckled, letting the spirits have their say. He knew he would hear much worse from his own family once he broke the news to them. He walked further into the house as they kept up their clamor of opinions, but he paused at the staircase to the second floor, wondering if he should drop off his coat in his room before joining the others in the kitchen. He jumped into the spirits’ conversation as he decided.  
  
 _You old gossips need to keep this to yourselves_ , he admonished them. _No leaking it to anyone else before I have a chance to come clean on my own_.  
  
 _Yes, yes, Rauko already warned us about that_ , the female spirit said glumly, as if she’d been itching to spill Julian’s secrets to every living Mori who would listen.  
  
 _Rauko? But why?_  
  
     "You’ve always been one of his favorites," Lisette said, walking into the room just in time to overhear Julian’s puzzled reaction. She held a crumb-covered Dorian in her arms. "He’s very protective of you, whether you realize it or not. For some reason he thinks he can convince you to give up on Sirius."  
  
     "Not going to happen."  
  
     Lisette’s blue eyes twinkled. "I told him as much. Don’t worry, Harry and I are on your side."  
  
     "Well, Rauko has Severus on his side – and that’s a combination that makes me nervous, to say the least."  
  
     "Severus will come around. He’s very much like – " Lisette broke off, biting her lip as if she’d just been scolded for saying too much.  
  
     "I’ll be on your side, Jules," Dorian piped up, brushing his dark curls out of his ocean-blue eyes as he asked innocently, "Is this about the puppy?"  
  
     "Yes," Lisette broke in before Julian could deny it. "We have to convince Severus that Julian would be happier if he had his puppy. Do you want to help?"  
  
     Dorian nodded emphatically, adding for good measure, "I like puppies, too."  
  
     [If Sirius gets wind of this puppy nonsense, it won’t exactly help my case,] Julian joked to Lisette. He could just imagine the scowl that would form on Sirius's handsome face if he ever heard himself referred to in such a way.  
  
     [Sirius is fighting a losing battle,] Lisette responded with a gentle smile, then changed the topic as she spoke aloud, "You missed quite a scene in the kitchen – an entire pitcher of ice-cold milk flew up into the air all by itself, then dumped itself all over Rauko’s head. Very strange occurrence, don’t you think?"  
  
     So that was the source of the crashing noise. Julian bit back a laugh, but his honey-brown eyes sparkled with amusement.  
  
     "Is that right? What a tragic waste of milk."  
  
     "Sev’rus said the same thing!" Dorian, an eyewitness to Harry’s wrath, had been whisked away before the true argument could begin, but not before hearing Severus’s dry comment.  
  
     "You also missed Sirius’s reaction to Severus. He was actually civil to him for the first few minutes that they occupied the same room – and then he realized who he was talking to," Lisette said with a laugh. "I must say, even Rauko has been surprised by how much Severus has changed. I don’t think he expected Severus to look quite so much like – " Again, Lisette cut her own sentence short, and she muttered, "I know, I know. Sorry," before she glanced down at the bright-eyed boy in her arms then back at Julian. "I’m going to get Dorian settled in his room, then I’ll meet you back in the kitchen, yes?"  
  
     Julian met her expectant expression with an easy grin. "I’ll head that way right now." He tapped his finger on the tip of Dorian’s nose, the little boy giggling in response, then reminded him with feigned solemnity, "Don’t forget to tell Severus how much you like puppies. In fact, why don’t you draw him a picture of a puppy? I think he’d like that."  
  
     Lisette gave him a look that said ‘you are incorrigible,’ but Dorian only nodded happily, pleased to be doing what he could to help ‘Jules’ get his puppy.  
  
     Julian watched them ascend the stairs, breathing out a contented sigh – he loved times like these, surrounded by family and friends. He wished their lives weren’t flawed by old wounds and new fears, but he could still find a sort of peace in this patchwork family that had been stitched together after Halloween.  
  
     A prickling sensation on the back of his neck warned him that he was being watched, and the flash of heat that shot through him gave him a good idea of who that might be. He turned around and came face to face with Sirius.  
  
     "Things were getting pretty heated in the kitchen," he said, his stiff posture and wandering gaze screaming awkwardness, "so I came to see if Lisette needed anything."  
  
     Julian forced himself to keep breathing. Seeing Sirius with his guard down was a rare sight – it was one thing to glimpse it in his dreams, but having the real thing right in front of him? It was beyond any temptation Julian had ever experienced before …  
  
     "Anyway, I’m being rude – what kind of host am I if I don’t greet my guests?" A genuine smile broke through the otherwise pained expression on Sirius’s face.  
  
     Whatever smooth greeting that Julian had been storing up for this momentous reunion died on his lips, the words turning to dust in his mouth and making it impossible for him to utter the softest sound. Sirius wore dark blue robes, leaving it to Julian’s imagination if he wore anything else underneath, and he was clean-shaven, his dark, shaggy hair combed into some semblance of order. His strangely organized appearance instilled a crazy desire inside of Julian to rip off those robes, muss up that hair, and kiss and bite every inch of the man’s smooth, clean skin. In fact, he couldn’t look away from those lips as Sirius nervously wetted them, and he took step after step closer to him, pulled forward by a force greater than himself, his now-golden gaze locked on Sirius's mouth.  
  
 _Just a kiss. One kiss won’t hurt. I can stop after just one ... can't I?_  
  
     Julian jerked back, startled by his own uncertainty. As much as he’d love to pounce on his ‘puppy’ right here, right now, he also knew that it wouldn’t stop at one simple kiss. If he caved in to his desire and got even a small taste of those lips, he wouldn’t be able to stop until he’d buried himself inside of that sweet arse and claimed Sirius as his own.  
  
     Taking a deep breath, Julian nodded at Sirius, his smile distant as he said, "It’s good to see you again."  
  
     He ignored Sirius’s perplexed – and disappointed? – expression and walked quickly down the hallway, eager to put some distance between them before he did something he would undoubtedly regret. He didn’t make it far before a hand emerged from the shadows along the corridor and grasped his arm.  
  
     [Now do you understand?] Rauko asked, leaning halfway out of the shadows that converged on the wall, his hair hanging wet and lank around his face from his recent milk bath.  
  
     Julian growled and pulled away, then continued on to the kitchen where he fixed a smile firmly in place and gave an award-worthy performance of convincing everyone, especially himself, that nothing was wrong.  


* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
     Sirius couldn’t understand it.  
  
     He’d done his best to prepare himself for Julian’s arrival in the few short hours after Harry’s frantic firecall telling him they would be coming early to Grimmauld Place. He’d mentally catalogued every polite way of saying, ‘No thanks, don’t want to shag you,’ and he’d persuaded Tonks to fetch him a fresh supply of sleeping draught that was guaranteed to free him from those erotic … errr, pesky dreams he’d been having lately. He’d even gone so far as to ward his room to protect him from unwanted intruders (it was a recurring fantasy … no, no, _nightmare_ … of his: to be lying sound asleep, unaware of the shadow stealing ever closer, until he felt the brush of soft lips against his neck and two hands trapping his wrists against the mattress as his nighttime visitor made his presence known).  
  
     He’d made every precaution – but now that they were face to face, it wasn’t Julian’s behavior that worried him … it was his own.  
  
 _I wanted him to kiss me_ , he thought, thunderstruck by the revelation, not even paying attention as Harry told everyone about the events at school that led to their impromptu removal from Hogwarts. He, Harry, Lisette and Rauko were seated at the kitchen table while Julian and Snape – brothers now, Harry had informed him – conversed silently in a dark corner, with only Julian’s candid expressions of surprise, annoyance, or derision providing any clue that a conversation was occurring at all.  
  
     Sirius kept willing Julian to look at him, confused by the lack of attention he was getting from the same Mori who only a month ago had taken every opportunity to talk or touch or even just sit next to Sirius. There had been that one tense moment at the foot of the stairs when he’d been sure Julian was going to kiss him – _and I wanted him to_ , Sirius agonized – but then Julian had walked away, and ever since then he’d studiously ignored Sirius aside from a polite nod when Sirius had accompanied Lisette into the kitchen for this ‘family meeting.’  
  
     Was this a new game? Was Julian playing hard to get? And if so, why did Sirius care? Because he did care. A lot. In fact, the more Julian avoided looking at him, the more Sirius’s confusion gave way to anger. His hands clenched as he fastened his stormy gaze on Julian’s face; Julian's cheeks reddened slightly, but he didn’t acknowledge Sirius’s forceful stare. He simply continued to look at Snape, nodding his head at regular intervals, devoting himself to their unspoken debate.  
  
 _Look at me, damn you_ , Sirius thought with a scowl, irritated that Julian was giving Snape his full and undivided attention. _Look. At. Me._  
  
     Julian winced and brought a hand to his forehead, as if Sirius’s forceful thoughts had stabbed themselves into his brain, but he didn’t look Sirius’s way. Instead, Sirius gained the unfortunate attention of Julian's ‘brother.’  
  
     "I suggest you look elsewhere, Black," Snape hissed, taking a menacing step forward and effectively blocking Julian from view, "before you lose an eye."  
  
     Sirius turned red, both embarrassed and angry at being confronted. "What are you babbling about now, Snivellus?"  
  
     "You understand exactly what I’m talking about."  
  
     "I’ve never understood you, Snape, and I’m not going to start trying now."  
  
     "You don’t have to explain your intellectual shortcomings to me, Black. I’ve always known you to be a big-mouthed simpleton, but even someone of your limited capabilities should be able to understand basic English when you hear it."  
  
     "Listen, you greasy git – "  
  
     "Enough!"  
  
     Harry’s frustrated shout coincided with the shattering of Rauko’s glass, showering him with tiny shards of bluish glass, several tear-drop sized pieces glittering in his long, dark hair, though Rauko was lucky enough to escape injury to his face or hands.  
  
     "Why must it always be _my_ glass that you break?" he asked with a plaintive sigh. "The first time, yes, I deserved it, but this time I wasn’t even talking!"  
  
     "That was for all the things you’ve done that I don’t know about," Harry said crossly before he moved on to lecture his godfather and his mate on their behavior. "I really don’t have the time or the patience to referee your little spats, so get along or get out. Sirius, stop ogling Julian."  
  
     "But I wasn’t – " Sirius tried to protest, but Harry cut him off.  
  
     "Whatever. Just stop." He then turned his jade-green gaze on his mate. "Severus, quit provoking Sirius. And Julian … you really look awful. Maybe you should lay down for a while or something."  
  
     "Harry’s going to make a wonderful parent," Lisette murmured, her blue eyes bright with laughter as Harry effectively punished, scolded, or mothered every other male in the room.  
  
     Sirius clamped his mouth shut and glared down at the tabletop, sparing only one last glance at Julian to confirm Harry’s diagnosis that he looked ill. Shaken and pale, Julian leaned back against the kitchen counter for support, with Snape hovering at his elbow. Again, Sirius felt a twinge of displeasure at seeing Snape so close to Julian. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it bothered him. Maybe it all just boiled down to his dislike of Snape – right, that had to be it. Snape just annoyed him. It had nothing to do with Julian. Nothing.  
  
     Rauko chuckled, startling Sirius out of his reverie. Gray eyes met indigo, and Sirius had the unsettling feeling that Rauko had just listened in on his inner debate and found it terribly amusing. Rauko opened his mouth, as if to comment further on what had tickled his funny bone, but he was interrupted, much to Sirius’s relief.  
  
     "Whatever it is, we don’t want to hear about it," Harry said as he gave Rauko a stern look.  
  
     Rauko pouted, but said nothing more. Instead, he began picking the fragments of glass from his hair, a task that Lisette soon took over, using her wand to tidy up her husband faster and more efficiently than he could have accomplished alone.  
  
     "Well, I want to hear more about your plans now that you’ve left Hogwarts." Lisette ran her fingers through Rauko’s silky, blue-black hair to ensure she’d removed every piece of glass. "Will you stay here at Grimmauld Place?"  
  
     "I hadn’t really thought about it," Harry admitted, leaning back in his seat. "I knew we would be here over the holidays, but I assumed we’d go back to school for a few more weeks before leaving Hogwarts for good."  
  
     "An assumption that is now completely out of the question," Snape butted in.  
  
     Sirius leapt at the opportunity that presented itself, turning to Harry to say softly, "You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want."  
  
     "All of us?" Harry asked with raised brows.  
  
     "All of you," he repeated, but it wasn’t the sacrifice of having to live in the same house as Snape that came to mind as he made that promise – no, his thoughts strayed to Julian, as did his gaze, and their eyes met for the first time. Julian quickly looked away.  
  
     "I suppose it would suffice … temporarily," Snape said, though it was obvious he was reluctant to stay in the same house with Sirius for any extended period of time.  
  
     "There is the Underground, as well," Rauko suggested.  
  
     "No, that would feel too much like running away," Harry said, dismissing the idea of joining the other Mori who had fled their homes for the safety of the Underground, a network of unplottable caves that had sheltered several generations of Mori during dangerous times.  
  
     Rauko leaned forward, eager to make his case for the Underground, but Lisette spoke first.  
  
     "The Underground doesn’t have proper medical facilities, and the stone that lines the caves is a known disruptor of magic – it would be risking Harry’s health and that of his child if we were to move them to the Underground before the baby is born."  
  
     "There have been countless healthy births in the Underground," Rauko said, not willing to give up so easily.  
  
     "Harry’s circumstances are different. He needs special care." Lisette tugged on a lock of Rauko’s hair, a non-verbal cue that further discussion of the subject would be pointless.  
  
     "Pushy woman," he muttered.  
  
     "And you love it," Lisette said.  
  
     Rauko said nothing, but the slow grin that spread over his lips was confirmation enough.  
  
     They decided to adjourn their meeting until dinner that night, leaving everyone free to go their own separate ways until the evening. Snape swept Harry away before Sirius had a chance to protest; Rauko kissed his wife goodbye and set out to ‘tie up some loose ends’ before nightfall; even Lisette had errands to run, talking of herbs and potions as she waved her farewells. Before he knew it, Sirius was alone in the kitchen with Julian.  
  
     An ocean of silence filled the space between them, giving Sirius a sense of being miles away from Julian instead of only a few feet apart. He’d never known Julian to be so distant – typically, he’d be fighting off his advances by now – and he hated how much it bothered him.  
  
 _I should be happy he’s ignoring me, so why am I so pissed off?_ Sirius returned to staring at Julian, now that Snape wasn’t around to make a fuss about it. Julian’s allure remained undiminished in spite of his obvious discomfort; the slight flush to his cheeks, the feverish glow of his eyes, the light sheen of sweat on his skin – yes, it could be argued that they were all symptoms of some mysterious illness, but Sirius started to think they’d been wrong and that Julian wasn’t sick … he was just incredibly aroused.  
  
     [Is that it? You just need to bang one out?] Sirius thought with a smirk, not realizing that his silent questions were being broadcast to Julian as clearly as if he’d shouted them.  
  
     "What?" Julian finally looked at him, finally held his gaze for more than a few seconds, and Sirius felt a flare of happiness that he quickly stamped out. "What did you say?"  
  
     "I didn’t say anything," Sirius said, kicking his feet up onto the chair that Rauko had vacated.  
  
     "No? Nothing about banging?" The words tumbled out of Julian’s lips with the usual good-natured lilt, but his eyes glittered like yellow diamonds – hard, cold, cutting – and his smile had gone crooked.  
  
     "I’m telling you, I didn’t say anything."  
  
     "No, but you thought it," Julian lowered his voice to a husky whisper that shouldn’t have carried all the way across the room, but to Sirius it seemed as if Julian's lips were right at his ear, "didn’t you?"  
  
     Sirius fidgeted in his chair, acutely aware of a stirring in his trousers as he steeled himself against that sultry murmur. It humiliated him, the way his body would respond so eagerly to Julian’s voice. His shame translated into anger as he snapped back, "Why ask me? You know everything, don't you?"  
  
     "But I want to hear you say it," Julian said, abandoning his corner of the kitchen to walk slowly towards Sirius, his eyes narrowing to two slits of gleaming yellow. "If you admit it, I’ll let you watch. Wouldn’t you like to see me ‘bang one out,’ Sirius?"  
  
     Sirius brought his feet back to the floor with a loud thump, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if hanging on for dear life as he leaned slightly forward in his seat, the muscles in his legs tensing as he prepared to get the hell out of there – but Julian cornered him before he could escape, his lightning-fast Shadowclaw reflexes giving him the advantage, and he placed his hands on Sirius’s shoulders to keep him trapped in his seat.  
  
     "No need to be shy," he said, waiting until he was sure that Sirius would stay put before sliding his fingers up his neck and into his thick, dark hair. He tilted Sirius’s head so he was looking up at him, and once he captured that stormy gaze, he refused to let Sirius look away. All traces of the fun-loving, wise-cracking Julian were gone. This Julian had sharp edges.  
  
     This Julian took no prisoners.  
  
     "Don’t you want a taste of the real thing? Aren’t you tired of just dreaming of me?"  
  
     Sirius couldn’t move. Both body and mind turned traitor on him, the former showing no resistance when Julian’s hands wandered down to his chest and began to unbutton his shirt, and the latter turning to absolute mush when Julian suddenly grabbed Sirius’s hand and pressed it against the growing bulge in his trousers.  
  
     "If you’re really nice," he bent down and whispered in Sirius’s ear, "I’ll even let you give me a hand, so to speak."  
  
     Sirius clenched his teeth and yanked his hand away, his body his own again now that Julian had broken eye contact with him. He wanted so badly to give in, but he knew that surrendering to Julian meant accepting a side of himself that he’d never imagined existed, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.  
  
     "No? Don’t even want to watch?" Julian may have sounded unaffected by Sirius’s rejection, but his eyes blazed a fierce yellow and he was panting softly, proof that his desire for Sirius still ran deep. There seemed to be a war raging inside him, observed most vividly in the way his eyes would shift from that cat’s-eye yellow to a softer, warmer shade of brown, but it was the good-natured side of Julian that won out, his eyes settling on a deep gold, his voice losing its edge as he said quietly, "I’ll see you at dinner, then."  
  
     He backed away from Sirius, his gaze lingering on Sirius's slack-jawed expression, then he picked up his coat from where it hung on the back of Rauko’s chair and left the room.  
  
     Sirius closed his eyes and let out the low moan he’d been repressing since the moment his fingers first brushed against Julian’s cloth-covered erection.  
  
 _That was close_ , he thought, but he couldn’t rejoice in the reprieve. If Julian hadn’t walked away, Sirius was sure his resistance would have crumbled with Julian's next sultry phrase or coaxing caress. What puzzled him more, however, was how certain he was that Julian was aware of that very fact.  
  
 _He knew he could have me … but he walked away. Why?_  
  
     No amount of speculation would bring Sirius any closer to understanding Julian's behavior.  


* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
     "I know you’re hungry, Harry, but you need to chew your food before you swallow it," Snape commented matter-of-factly.  
  
     Sirius looked up, cracking a smile when he saw the way Harry was plowing into his pie and mash. He didn’t like thinking about Harry ‘eating for two’ (for him, male and pregnant just didn’t go together) but he enjoyed seeing his godson with some meat on his bones for a change. Harry was becoming positively chubby-cheeked, making him look even younger than his seventeen years, and he looked healthier than Sirius had ever seen him.  
  
     "Save room for treacle tart," Lisette advised him, but she and Snape both looked pleased by Harry’s appetite.  
  
     "Everything tastes so good," Harry said, making a visible effort to slow down.  
  
     "Lisette is a wonderful cook." Julian raised his glass in a salute to her, flashing her a bright smile and a wink. "Such a shame that she shackled herself to Rauko. Are you sure you don’t want to trade him in for a … younger model?"  
  
     Rauko glared at him. "Quit flirting with my wife."  
  
     "Was I?" Julian feigned shock, but there was no mistaking the mischief dancing in his eyes. A playful grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, and it seemed that whatever problems had been weighing on his mind earlier in the day were now forgotten and he was back to being his usual charismatic self.  
  
     "You are a shameless flirt," Rauko accused. "You always have been."  
  
     Sirius sat up a little straighter in his chair, trying not to look too interested in the conversation, but the half-hearted way he moved his food around his plate wasn’t all that convincing.  
  
     "I can believe it," Snape said.  
  
     "Me too," Harry chimed in.  
  
     "Hey! No fair ganging up on me like that!" Julian was laughing, but at the same time he was casting nervous glances at Sirius.  
  
     "He was worse when he was younger - a real lolita."  
  
     Lisette made a face at her husband's misguided choice of words.   
  
     A malicious smile replaced Rauko’s disgruntled frown, as if he saw the perfect opening to make Julian regret his previous taunts. "Even now, he loves the chase, but he never has any intention of keeping what he catches. His ‘sweet talk’ is infamous among the bloodlines – yet the moment any Mori takes him seriously, he rejects the poor broken-hearted fool."  
  
     Sirius dropped his fork and sat back with a sigh, no longer hungry. He could feel Julian’s stare, but this time it was he who ignored Julian, refusing to meet his eyes.  
  
     "You are grossly exaggerating his behavior. He has an open, friendly personality – he isn’t the lothario you make him out to be. And besides, anyone who allows himself to be beguiled by words instead of following his instincts is certainly a ‘fool’ in my book," Lisette said crisply, staunchly defensive of Julian. She, too, looked at Sirius, adding softly, "Julian will know when he has found his mate."  
  
     Rauko steepled his hands under his chin, clearly enjoying himself as he continued to tease Julian. "His family believes he will never settle down. They say it is because he ignores the guidance of his familiar and laughs at the wisdom of the spirits."  
  
     "What’s your familiar, Julian?" Harry broke in, nothing more than simple curiosity prompting the question.  
  
     Julian hesitated, tearing his gaze from Sirius to glance at Snape, then answering Harry’s question with a strained smile, "Panther."  
  
     Sirius raised his head. Julian’s familiar was a _cat_?  
  
     "The same as Severus?"  
  
     And it just kept getting worse.  
  
     "Almost the same," Julian said, but he looked disinclined to discuss it.  
  
     "That’s quite a coincidence."  
  
     Rauko smiled. "There is no such thing as coincidence, Harry. Everyone and everything is connected. We may not see those connections at first glance, but they are there all the same. Don’t forget, you and I have the same familiar as well."  
  
     Sirius went back to poking at his food, allowing the conversation to swell around him without really paying attention to what was being said. He tended to tune everything Mori-related out of his mind, mostly because thinking of the Mori made him think almost exclusively of Julian, and it was bad enough to be sitting in the same room with him; he didn’t think it was fair for Julian to haunt his thoughts as well.  
  
     "What do you think, Sirius?"  
  
     He looked up at Harry, startled. "What?"  
  
     Harry chuckled. "We were talking about whether Hermione and Ron should leave Hogwarts early, too. I think they should, but Severus and Lisette think they should stay until the holiday break. What do you think?"  
  
     An answer of ‘the more, the merrier’ was right on the tip of his tongue, but then Sirius thought the better of it and he asked cautiously, "Do you think this Lyr fellow would go after one of them now that you’re gone?"  
  
     Harry shrugged. "I don’t know. I can never get a read on him. He definitely knows I’m a Mori, though, or strongly suspects. And there was something else … something I can’t quite put my finger on. Dumbledore says he’ll keep an eye on them, but he can’t always be with them."  
  
     "I am most worried about Miss Granger," Rauko said, and Lisette nodded her agreement.  
  
     "The attack on her parents’ house tells us that she has already been targeted. While I don’t think it will help to remove her from the school, I do think that it would be wise to provide her and Mr. Weasley with their own protection. As Harry said, Albus is not free to watch them every moment of the day. If we give them Mori shadows, they will have constant protection."  
  
     "What do you say, Julian? Shall we send you back for another tour of duty behind enemy lines?"  
  
     Sirius’s stomach churned, for reasons he didn’t care to explore.  
  
     "No!" Harry’s outburst surprised everyone, and his cheeks blushed a dark crimson as he clarified, "I mean … Julian is _my_ shadow, isn't he? I need him here … with me."  
  
     Sirius could have sworn he heard Snape growl.  
  
     "You have Severus now, Harry," Rauko said, "and you are relatively safe here, so there is no need for you to have a shadow."  
  
     "Hmm, perhaps, but Severus isn’t fully trained. Neither is Harry, for that matter. Aiyana – " Lisette’s voice broke as she spoke her daughter’s name, but she quickly composed herself and carried on, " – she left before Harry's lessons were completed. I believe Julian’s place is with the two of them, as their teacher."  
  
     "Do I get to spank Harry if he misbehaves?" Julian, who had been strangely silent up to this point, was ever ready with a cheeky comment, but there was something like relief in his expression.  
  
     "Only if you want to die," Snape forced out between clenched teeth.  
  
 _One minute he’s protective of Julian, and the next he’s threatening him._ Sirius hadn’t just been goading Snape earlier – he _really_ didn’t understand the man at all. Was it a Mori thing? He took a long drink of his water (he thought it best to avoid alcohol for the time being) as he tried to sort it all out in his head. Maybe it was a result of being turned? Snape did seem rather territorial lately …  
  
     "Oh, don’t be jealous, Little Brother. I’ll spank you, too."  
  
     Sirius choked on his water, falling prey to a coughing fit that had Rauko reaching over and slapping him on the back.  
  
     Julian grinned at his reaction. "Sirius, too? My, my … I’ll certainly have my hands full …"  
  
     Sirius glared at him.  
  
     "Now that the question of who will be spanking who is solved," Lisette said dryly, bringing the conversation back on topic, "we need to decide who to send to Hogwarts."  
  
     Rauko stroked his chin, his violet gaze falling on Julian as he suggested, "Why not send Khiasa?"  
  
     The smile vanished from Julian's face, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.  
  
     "Who's Khiasa?" Harry licked treacle tart from his fork, unaware of the lascivious stare of his mate, or perhaps choosing not to acknowledge it.  
  
     "A Blackwing. He was Lisette's shadow for many years, and I trust him explicitly."  
  
     "I have no objections to Khiasa," Lisette said hesitantly, practically making a liar of herself with how reluctant she was to endorse Rauko's choice. She glanced at a tight-lipped Julian with pity in her eyes, then forced a cheery smile as she turned to Harry. "He is not as ... _personable_ ... as Julian, but I think he would take excellent care of Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. Blackwings are second only to Shadowclaws in stealth, and one of Khiasa's fathers is a Shadowclaw, so he has genetics on his side."  
  
     Sirius stopped himself from taking another drink of water just in time. Fathers? As in, _plural?_ Just how common was it for male Mori to give birth?  
  
     "So his parents are both ..." Harry's eyes were lit up with excitement, and Sirius felt a pang of sympathy for his godson. It was only natural that Harry would want to know first-hand what he could expect during his own pregnancy. It wasn't as if he could go out and buy a book on the subject.  
  
     "Yes, they are both males," Rauko said with a smile. "Khiasa's parents are several centuries old, and he is their second youngest child out of nine. So you see, Harry, you are not alone in your condition. Male pregnancy is a fact of life for the Mori."  
  
     "Both a blessing and a curse, I would say, as males tend to give birth to more males," Lisette said. "The Warsongs try their best to even the score, but morwens are unfairly outnumbered by morions these days."  
  
     "Which is why we treat them like the rare gifts they are," Rauko said, reaching across the table to gently clasp his wife's hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss as he stared into Lisette's eyes.  
  
     "Why do you get to flirt with her and I don't?" Julian asked, pouting.  
  
     Sirius laughed along with everyone else, but he couldn't help but notice that Julian's smile didn't quite reach his eyes anymore.  
  
     "It is settled, then. Khiasa will be sent to Hogwarts." Rauko smirked as he turned to Julian and asked, "Would you like to give him the happy news?"  
  
     Julian's eyes flickered a bright yellow, then mellowed back to honey-brown as he replied smoothly, "No, I will leave that dubious pleasure to you or Lisette."  
  
     "Why so cold, Julian? You grew up with Khiasa, and I believe you have always been ... _close_ , have you not?"  
  
     Julian stabbed at his tart with his fork, a tremor of anger leaking into his voice. "Khiasa and I didn't part on the best of terms."  
  
     "Is that so? I heard differently ..."  
  
     "You hear what you want to hear," Lisette stepped in before the tension in the room could rise any further. "Now eat your food before it gets cold."  
  
     Rauko continued to look pleased with himself while 'pissed off' was the best phrase to describe Julian's sullen, pinched expression. Harry looked at Sirius with raised eyebrows, puzzled by Julian's reaction, but Sirius could only shrug in response. He had a hunch that the less he knew about what was bothering Julian, the better.  


* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
     "This is not a case of _maranwe_ , Julian." Rauko poured himself a tumbler-full of whiskey before claiming one of the slightly dusty armchairs that filled the downstairs sitting-room. He had followed Julian into the room after dinner, and now he kept a careful eye on him as Julian sat in the window seat, rummaging frantically in his pockets. "You should find someone else. Someone more … suitable."  
  
     "Is that why you're so keen to involve Khiasa? Is he your choice for me? Look, _maranwe_ is the whim of Fate. It's a beautiful concept, but I chose Sirius for myself, on instinct alone. Shouldn’t that count for something?" Julian’s hands shook as he placed a hand-rolled cigarette between his lips, then struck a match to light it. He took a long, calming drag on the cigarette then expelled the sweet-smelling smoke in a frustrated huff. "If Sirius was a half-blood, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."  
  
     "Believe what you like, Julian, but the true heart of the matter is that this wizard has not accepted you," Rauko said, waving one elegant hand to dispel the smoke that drifted his way, "and your inability to control yourself around him might lead you to take by force what he is not willing to give you."  
  
     "I would never hurt him like that!" Julian seethed at the insinuation.  
  
     "No? Are you willing to risk it?" Rauko stood and moved to the window seat, brushing his fingertips over Julian’s cheek and smiling when Julian instinctively leaned into the touch. "See? You are starving for the slightest gesture of affection. Let me send for Khiasa. You have … _helped_ each other before during times like these, yes?"  
  
     "I’m not a fledgling who can’t control his instincts," Julian snapped. "I want more than a quick rut to ease the hunger. I have a mate this time."  
  
     "Ahh, but you do not ‘have’ him at all, now do you?"  
  
     Julian’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t argue with that. As much as he hoped that Sirius would surrender to his feelings one day and let Julian into his life, it was unlikely to happen over the holidays, and Julian’s growing need for Sirius was frightening in its intensity. Was Rauko right? Was he capable of forcing himself on Sirius? The thought was absurd, and yet …  
  
     [It pains me to see you so melancholy, Julian.] Rauko stroked Julian’s hair, indulging his need to be touched, setting down his drink so he could take the forgotten cigarette from Julian’s fingers and toss it into the fireplace. [This wizard will bring you nothing but sorrow. Khiasa is the better choice. He is very fond of you, despite the fact that you have kept him at arms’ length for nearly a century now. Let him help you now as he has in the past …]  
  
     Julian knocked Rauko’s hand away. The touch may have been soothing, but the words were blasphemy.  
  
     "I will not accept a substitute," he said quietly.  
  
     "You have always been too stubborn for your own good," Rauko teased gently, but anyone could see he was visibly disturbed by Julian’s persistently downcast expression.  
  
     "I guess that makes me the kettle and you the pot," Julian tried to joke, but his voice held none of its usual jovial warmth.  
  
     Rauko sighed, pushing his drink aside so he could perch on the edge of the window seat, facing Julian. "This is not the first time a pureblood has caught your eye."  
  
     "Nathaniel was a friend," Julian said, his voice tight with repressed anger. "I loved him, but I didn’t feel this … this _need_ for him, not like I feel for Sirius. I knew Sirius was meant to be my mate from the moment I first scented him, so you might as well save your breath. No matter what you say, he’s going to be mine." The steely tone that threaded Julian’s voice allowed for no argument.  
  
     "Even if it is against his will?"  
  
     Julian made a tortured, strangled sound low in his throat, his eyes glinting gold. "Why do you keep saying that? I would never … I _couldn’t_ …"  
  
     "This is your first breeding cycle where your instincts have a target," Rauko wouldn’t allow Julian’s hostile reaction to deter him, pursuing his line of reasoning in a soft, soothing voice, relentlessly persuasive as he seduced Julian’s undefended mind. "You have felt the hunger many times before, yes, but now there is a face in your thoughts, a scent in your memory, and your instincts are screaming for you to make your claim. You will surrender to those instincts – it is only a matter of time – and you will break him if that is what it takes to satisfy the beast within you."  
  
     Julian shook his head in fervent denial of what Rauko implied, resisting the childish urge to cover his ears to block out the hypnotic voice that had once beguiled him out of a deep friendship and now sought to strip him of a mate. If he let himself believe, even for a moment, that he was capable of raping Sirius just to establish his dominance over him, then he would have to leave Grimmauld Place until his desires were no longer clawing at his insides, demanding to be released.  
  
     "Forget him," Rauko said, sensing Julian’s weakening resolve and pressing his advantage. "Pursuing a pureblood is foolish. You stand to lose everything, Julian. Friends, family … they would shun you."  
  
     "On _your_ orders," Julian snapped, rising from the window seat and walking a few steps away, trying to control his temper. When he felt he could continue calmly, he added, "Once, it was forbidden to befriend any wizard, regardless of blood purity, but you changed that rule when it suited your purposes. You could end this discrimination against purebloods, but you won’t. At least, not until it serves your own needs."  
  
     Rauko leaned back, momentarily cowed by Julian’s accusations. He reached for his drink, turning the glass absently in his hand, running his thumb along the rim, then bringing it to his lips for a long, fortifying drink before turning his purple gaze back to Julian.  
  
     "I won’t stand in your way," he said after a long silence. "If he is meant to be your mate, then so be it, but I cannot approve turning a pureblood – not now, not when there is so much fear and distrust. If you can reconcile yourself to the possibility that your time together may be limited, then I leave that choice to you. Humans have many strengths, but their average lifespan – even as wizards – is frustratingly short. You may regret attaching yourself to him."  
  
     "I’m sure I’ll regret a lot of things in my lifetime," Julian said with a sad shake of his head, a bittersweet smile curving his lips, "but that would never be one of them."  
  
     Rauko’s eyes hooded, his expression hardening as footsteps sounded in the hallway. He downed the rest of his whiskey before muttering ominously, "We shall see."  
  
     Julian tensed. Even if he hadn’t recognized the sound of those footfalls, the scent that preceded them left him in no doubt that it was Sirius headed towards the sitting room. He cursed softly under his breath, his hands clenching into fists as his body reacted entirely independent of his mind, his heartbeat quickening and his cock stirring in his trousers. That horrible hunger seized hold of him again, pounding in his veins, and he clawed at the collar of his shirt, the comfortable warmth of the room suddenly turning oppressive as a strange heat surged through his body.  
  
     [You are a breath away from feral and he has yet to enter the room. Can you still say to me that Sirius is safe while you are in this house?]  
  
     Rauko’s voice intruded on his attempts at self-restraint, his gentle tone bringing needed comfort to Julian’s mind (though he could have done without the "told you so" taunt implied by his words). Julian closed his eyes, suffering the excruciating torment of stronger whiffs of that delectable scent and the unintentional caress of Sirius’s presence against his own as he entered the room, Sirius's magic seeking him out – a confirmation of their solidifying bond – and wrapping around his body in a loose embrace, mingling with Julian’s shadows, light and darkness meshing into one. The coupling of their magics only led Julian to imagine just how brilliant it would feel to join with Sirius in every way possible … multiple times … in multiple positions … until Sirius was screaming for him to –  
  
     [Julian, let him go.]  
  
     Julian’s eyes flew open and he found himself staring directly into the startled but smoldering gray gaze of his would-be mate. At some point (and with his eyes closed, no less) Julian had backed Sirius up against a wall, shoving one thigh between the other’s legs as he leaned in and placed his hands on either side of Sirius's head. He could detect the beginnings of an erection from where his thigh pressed up against Sirius’s groin, and he could not hold back the low, pleased moan that fought its way free of his lips at that tiny victory.  
  
     [Julian. _Now_.]  
  
     Rauko’s stern voice flickered through his thoughts once more, and Julian dropped his hands to his sides, taking several deep breaths as he fought the urge to just give in and fuck Sirius up against the wall – to hell with Rauko; the old meddler could _watch_ for all he cared – so that this fierce fire inside of him could finally be quenched.  
  
     And with that one, quasi-exhibitionist thought, Julian realized that Rauko was right. He was out of control (why else would he contemplate giving Rauko an eye-full of his first time with Sirius?) and Sirius was in danger – from him. It pained him to admit it, but Julian knew he couldn’t stay under the same roof as Sirius; not until his breeding cycle had run its course and his instincts had quieted down.  
  
     Sirius had yet to say a word, staring silently at Julian with conflicting emotions running rampant through his mind, bursts of arousal and confusion and even fear that stung at Julian’s conscience. He enjoyed chasing Sirius, but this was no longer a playful seduction. This was a predator stalking its prey – ruthless, unyielding.  
  
 _If he says no, will I listen?_ Julian asked himself. He decided he couldn’t risk discovering the answer to that question. He walked out of the room without uttering a word, escaping the sitting room – and his greatest temptation – with his dignity intact.  


* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
     Sirius watched as Julian fled yet another room because of him, painfully aware of a growing ache in his chest, a hollow, empty feeling that enveloped him now that he and Rauko were alone in the room. The infusion of hot desire that Julian’s aggressive greeting had inspired in his body slowly cooled to shame and unease – one minute Julian was shoving him up against a wall like he wanted to ravish him and the next he was running away from him. Why?  
  
     "He is not running from you," Rauko assured him in a low, rumbling tone, easily drawing out Sirius’s silent turmoil as he poured himself another drink, offering the same to Sirius who declined with a dazed ‘no thank you.’ "Julian is running from himself. It would be best if you avoided him for as long as he remains in this house, for your sake as well as his."  
  
     Sirius frowned. "I don’t understand."  
  
     "You don’t need to," Rauko said with a dismissive wave of his hand, his voice maintaining that hypnotic purr, but there was a sharp glint in his indigo eyes as he studied Sirius that left him feeling vaguely threatened. "Julian is suffering right now, but all will be well in a week, maybe two. I plan on convincing him to accompany me to the Underground, so there will be no inconvenience to you."  
  
     Sirius looked away. "He isn’t an inconvenience. This house is big enough for all of us."  
  
     "He wants you."  
  
     Sirius glanced back at Rauko, his face growing red with embarrassment.   
  
     Rauko chuckled, taking a slow drink of his whiskey before he continued softly, "I know this is not a surprise to you. Julian makes it a rule to be completely open with those he considers close to him, and the bond he has forged with you goes far beyond what would have resulted from his first brief stay at Grimmauld Place. He will have left you in no doubt of his intentions."  
  
     "And your point?"  
  
     "My point," Rauko rose from his chair, tossing the glass into the hearth with a smash, distracting Sirius so that he was unaware of Rauko moving until he was right at his shoulder, his fingers digging into Sirius's chin as he forced Sirius to look up at him, "is that Julian would do anything to have you. _Anything._ A Mori can fight his instincts for only so long before the need to satisfy them grows too strong to resist. You constantly deny him, yet I have seen how you watch him, the desire in your eyes … these mixed signals may be typical of human courtship, but a feral Mori will have no patience for such games. If you cannot accept your feelings for Julian, then do as I say and keep your distance from him. A Mori in heat is not to be trifled with, especially not a Shadowclaw."  
  
     He released Sirius roughly and walked out of the room, leaving Sirius to rub his sore chin in bewildered silence. Feral? In heat? What the hell was going on? And Rauko’s reaction to Sirius’s innocent (well, slightly cheeky) question had seemed particularly extreme; Sirius didn’t need a Mori’s talent for telepathy to sense the anger simmering just below Rauko’s cool, calm exterior.  
  
     "I get the feeling he doesn’t like me," he said, wearily raking a hand through his shaggy black hair.  
  
     "If he didn’t like you, he’d have found a way to get rid of you by now," Lisette said from the doorway. She held a glass of bluish liquid in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. "I take it Julian has already gone upstairs?"  
  
     Sirius nodded, and Lisette sighed her exasperation. "I told him he needed to take this potion before he went to bed, and I brought him some fresh herbs, too."  
  
     "I can take them up to him." Sirius heard himself make the offer, then immediately regretted it. What was he thinking? Rauko had just warned him to stay away from Julian, and here Sirius was taking the first opportunity to be alone with him in his bedroom!  
  
     "Thank you, Sirius, that would be quite helpful," Lisette said with a sly smile. She handed him the glass and the paper bag before turning to leave, but then she paused and looked back at him, a shrewd expression darkening the bright blue of her eyes. "Be sure Julian drinks the potion before you leave – he doesn’t always take his medicine like a good boy. You might have to be forceful with him. Can you promise me you’ll make him take it?"  
  
     Sirius shifted uncomfortably on his feet, reluctant to agree to more than he’d already done, but the longer he looked into Lisette’s eyes, the fewer doubts he felt. A quietness soaked into his thoughts, easing the confusion and agitation that had accumulated over the day, and he found himself saying, "I won’t leave until he drinks every drop."  
  
     "Excellent," Lisette murmured, then she said goodnight and disappeared into the dark hallway.  
  
     Sirius felt his tranquility fade away as Lisette’s footsteps receded, a cold slap of apprehension waking him from whatever dream-like state he’d been lulled into by the cunning morwen. What had he just agreed to?  
  
 _Might as well get this over with_ , he thought to himself, resigned to his duty. He would give Julian the medicine, watch him drink the potion, then say goodnight and retreat to his heavily-fortified room for a much-needed rest. His feet felt heavy and clumsy as he climbed the stairs, but a nervous excitement – like the heady, heart-pounding thrill of racing broomsticks with James when they were kids – began to overpower the misgivings he felt. It was almost nostalgic, that rush of adrenaline. He missed that feeling more than he’d realized.  
  
 _I’ve been cooped up in this house for too long_ , he thought with a sigh. He wanted the freedom to be out in the world again, taking risks, raising hell …  
  
     He lost himself in memories of his glory days, distracting himself from his own frazzled nerves, and he was at Julian’s door before he even had time to second-guess the decision. Tucking the paper bag under his arm, he knocked at the door.  
  
     "Julian? Can I come in?"  
  
     He heard a thud and a muffled curse, then silence. So now he was being ignored again? Was Julian hoping he’d go away if he didn’t answer him?  
  
     "I know you’re in there, so just open the door. Lisette wanted me to bring this potion and some herbs up to you."  
  
     More silence, then, "Leave them at the door. I’ll get them in a minute."  
  
     Sirius rolled his eyes and reached for the doorknob, only to find the door locked.  
  
     "This is ridiculous," he grumbled. He unlocked the door (he didn’t need his wand for such a simple spell) then opened it and walked into the room as if he owned it (which he did) without giving a thought to the reason Julian might have locked the door (though it would come to haunt him later). The room was dark, with only the lights from the street providing illumination through the room's single window, but Sirius’s eyes quickly adjusted.  
  
     "Just drink this damn potion so we both can get some sleep," he said, putting the glass on the dresser and setting the paper bag beside it, but when he looked up, Julian wasn’t anywhere to be seen.  
  
     "Err … Julian?"  
  
     The shadows near the foot of the bed heaved, and Sirius glimpsed pale skin and yellow eyes before the darkness settled again, cloaking Julian from his sight.  
  
     "Go away, Sirius," he rasped, his disembodied voice sending chills up Sirius's spine.  
  
     "Not until you drink this potion," Sirius said, duty-bound by his promise to Lisette to stick around until Julian drank the entire glass of icy-blue liquid. He turned back to the dresser to fetch the glass, but as soon as his back was facing the bed, he felt a warm, heavy presence right behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, but he still couldn't see anything. The weight of that presence, however, remained as tangible to his senses as ever.  
  
     "Julian?"  
  
     Hot breath bathed the back of his neck as his shoulders were seized from behind by two strong hands, the voice at his ear ragged with desperation. "I told you to go away. Why are you still here?"  
  
     Sirius shrugged off Julian's hands as he turned to face him. "I'll leave when I'm good and - "  
  
     No one was there.  
  
     " - ready," he said, scratching his head. Why was Julian playing hide and seek?  
  
     "If you want me out of here, all you have to do is drink that potion." He walked towards the wall closest to the bed, sure that he’d seen something move in the shadows there. His footsteps sounded loud in the still room. "Otherwise, it looks like you’re stuck with me."  
  
     He didn’t know what it was that left him feeling so bold, so assured that instead of walking towards danger, he was walking towards the next big adventure in his life, but his mind was blissfully absent of warning bells and needling doubts as he approached the spot where he suspected Julian was hiding. He could hear heavy breathing interspersed by whispers of Elvish.  
  
     [I would run if I were you,] Julian snarled into his mind.  
  
     The darkness in front of him rippled, but when Sirius reached out his hand, he touched only the cold wall. Julian had chosen a new hiding place.  
  
     "I’m a Gryffindor. I don’t run away from anything."  
  
     A loud, frustrated growl erupted from behind Sirius, and he whipped around, grabbing at what looked like thin air but grasping Julian’s arm instead. Even through the material of his shirt, Julian’s arm was unusually hot, as if a fever consumed his body, but Sirius didn’t let go. He pulled Julian forward, watching with growing amazement as first an arm, then a shoulder, then Julian's head and torso, all emerged from the darkness.  
  
     Julian wore the same shirt and trousers he’d worn at dinner, but his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, showing off the smooth planes of his chest and his tight, flat stomach, his trousers hanging low on his slim hips and giving Sirius a glimpse of red boxers peeking over the waistband. Julian's hair was unbound and in disarray, a golden-brown nimbus that framed the undimmed, otherworldly beauty of his face, but it was his eyes that Sirius couldn’t look away from – those vivid yellow eyes, glowing like firelight in the darkness of the room, ensnared Sirius, enthralled and devoured him, and reduced him to a gaping idiot in a matter of seconds.  
  
     "Like what you see?" Julian asked in a hushed voice. Instead of pulling away to hide again, he raised his hand and cupped the back of Sirius’s neck, drawing him closer. When their faces were inches apart, he suddenly slid his fingers into Sirius’s hair and yanked his head to the side, his grip painful as he grazed his teeth over Sirius's neck.  
  
     "You should have run, Sirius," he whispered into his ear.  
  
     He released Sirius with a shove, making him stumble back a few steps, the backs of his legs hitting the bed. Julian shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed.  
  
     "You brought this on yourself," he said as he pushed Sirius back onto the bed, "though I don’t think you’ll regret your choice once we get started."  
  
 _Choice? What choice?_ Sirius could only conclude that Julian had lost his mind.  
  
     "Don't give me that confused look." The hard edge had returned to Julian’s voice; whatever inner struggle he was going through, it looked like his primal side was winning. "You can hate me all you want in the morning, but at least be honest with me tonight. You know you want this."  
  
     He crawled on top of Sirius with a feline grace that made sense to Sirius now, very cat-like as he rubbed up against Sirius, nuzzling his neck while trapping his hands against the mattress. Sirius's natural reaction was to struggle, bucking his hips in an attempt to throw Julian off, but Julian only laughed.  
  
     [Are you going to fight me, Sirius? Fighting is foreplay for a Shadowclaw ...]  
  
     As if to prove his point, he began to grind his hips against Sirius every time Sirius tried to dislodge him, using his resistance as a means to break him, actually whispering encouragement to Sirius to keep trying.  
  
     "Ahh, that’s it … move your hips just like that … you can feel me so much better that way, see? I know I can feel _you_ …"  
  
     Sirius tried to ignore Julian's voice but failed, finding it too difficult to tune out that throaty growl, especially since that was one aspect of Julian that never failed to turn him on - he had a devastatingly sexy voice.  
  
     "I love it when you’re angry – that scowl of yours is irresistible."  
  
     "You’re certifiable," Sirius barked, unsettled by the wicked smile that curved Julian’s lips.   
  
     He leaned down and nibbled at Sirius’s ear, promising, "I’m going to fuck you senseless tonight."  
  
     "Is that right?" Sirius tried to sound flippant, finally managing to get an arm free. "Do you mind if I beat the living hell out of you first?"  
  
     Julian effortlessly evaded the fist that swung his way, his eyes taking on that diamond-hard glare again as he secured Sirius’s free arm, then he brought Sirius's entire rebellion to a halt by violating what few boundaries remained between them and taking control of Sirius's mind.  
  
     To Sirius, it felt as if he’d just been hit with a body-bind curse, unable to move, unable to cry out, and he realized that the sheer magnitude of a Mori’s power – at least, of _Julian’s_ power – could be very dangerous, indeed. Julian's presence filled every nook and cranny of his mind, knocking the breath out of him, disorienting him, rendering him helpless to resist as Julian ripped open his robes. He suffered the full measure of Julian’s mind talents for several terrifying seconds before suddenly he was free, and Julian was back on his feet, pacing in front of the door, visibly disturbed.  
  
     "The old bastard was right," Julian muttered, running a hand through his hair, his eyes wild.  
  
     Sirius closed his eyes, willing his body to stop shaking. He never wanted to feel that weak and vulnerable ever again.  
  
     "You could have used a spell."  
  
     Sirius opened his eyes at the sound of Julian’s voice. He pushed himself up on his elbows. "What?"  
  
     Julian’s eyes shifted back and forth between hungry, feral yellow and remorseful honey-brown. "This whole time – you could have used magic to get away. Why didn’t you?"  
  
     Sirius stared at Julian blankly then fell back onto the mattress with a chuckle that grew into a full-blown laugh. Why the hell _hadn’t_ he used magic? What was wrong with him? He was a wizard, wasn’t he? So why did Julian make him forget everything about himself except for the fact that he was a _man_ , pure and simple – a man with needs and desires that had nothing to do with the latest Order emergency or the war with Voldemort, or even with his concern for Harry.  
  
     Julian unfastened his trousers, revealing those red boxers that had caught Sirius’s attention earlier, and shucked both before walking back to the bed and straddling a hysterical-with-laughter Sirius. He silenced his nervous chuckles with a velvet-soft kiss, brushing Sirius’s lips with his own, seducing him with teasing nips and licks, focusing all his considerable allure into coaxing Sirius to respond.  
  
     "I'm sorry," he said against Sirius's mouth before deepening the kiss, unable to resist plundering his mouth as he continued his apologies through their bond, gingerly - as he wasn't sure how Sirius would react to having him in his head again so soon - but sincerely, [I'm sorry ... but I couldn't stop. Even now, I know I should let you go, but I can't. I have to make you mine ... will you let me?]  
  
     Sirius sensed that he was losing Julian again to whatever crazy Mori instincts were driving him, made all the more obvious when Julian started clawing at his robes, bypassing the clothing's simple closures in favor of tearing it open, his hands as hot as brands as they slid up Sirius's chest and began plucking at his nipples. Sirius moaned, flicking his tongue against Julian's, who promptly took that small gesture and interpreted it as Sirius's consent. He broke their kiss only long enough to finish freeing Sirius from his clothing, throwing the tattered robes over his shoulder, then he dove back into a second passionate kiss, one hand delving into Sirius's dark hair, the other tracing a meandering path down his chest to his stomach, drawing lazy circles over Sirius's skin.  
  
     When those wayward fingers curled around his cock, Sirius tore his mouth away for a loud groan - an incredibly embarrassing sound that he immediately regretted making. Julian chuckled and tried to kiss him again, but Sirius pushed him away, shaking his head.  
  
     "No," he said, firmly planting his hands against Julian's chest to keep him away.  
  
     Julian growled in frustration, but he managed to sound calm and even concerned as he asked, "What is it?"  
  
     "Noise," was Sirius's barely coherent answer, his brain having taken a backseat as soon as Julian started touching him, but he pulled himself together enough to clarify, "Someone will hear us."  
  
     A boyish grin swept away the feral intensity of Julian's expression as he reverted back to being the playful, light-hearted morion that Sirius was used to seeing. "Is that it? I can fix that."  
  
     He practically leapt off the bed, his steps bouncy with enthusiasm and energy as he walked over to the door and happily bit into his right hand, drawing blood.  
  
     Sirius blanched and sat up. "Hey! I meant something like a silencing charm."  
  
     "Silencing charms don't work against the Mori. It takes something stronger."  
  
     Julian squeezed his hand into a fist, then pressed his bloody palm to the wood, drawing a rune in the center of that crimson handprint with his thumb. He whispered something in Elvish that made the windows rattle ... then silence. Julian looked over his shoulder at a skeptical Sirius and grinned, raising his brows in a _'oh, you don't think that worked?'_ expression, then suddenly started screaming at the top of his lungs:  
  
     "Oh yes! _Fuck_ yes! That's right, Sirius! Suck that cock!"  
  
     Sirius nearly had a heart attack. He expected any minute for Snape to break down the door and challenge him to a duel for daring to lay a finger on his precious brother, but there was nothing, not even the sound of footsteps in the hallway.  
  
     Julian burst into laughter. "You should see your face!"  
  
     "It's not funny," he said with a scowl, then wiped the angry expression from his face when he saw Julian's grin turn lecherous.  
  
     "It's a _little_ funny," Julian countered with a wink. He sauntered back to the bed, his gaze sharpening with each step, his smile no longer capturing the sunny exuberance of a child but the hungry leer of a hunter circling his prey. "Now that I've fixed the problem ... does that mean you're going to scream like that for me?"  
  
     Sirius scoffed at the question, scooting back on the bed as Julian crept closer. "You're nothing to scream about, in my opinion."  
  
     "Famous last words." The mattress dipped under Julian's weight as he crawled back onto the bed, pouncing on Sirius with a return of that single-minded focus that characterized his earlier attempts to have his way with him.  
  
     "You'll have to forgive me," he said as he parted Sirius's legs and made himself at home between his thighs, "if I skip the foreplay just this once."  
  
     He wiped his hand on the bed sheets, leaving a red stain on the threadbare cotton, then sucked two fingers between his lips, wetting them, before rubbing the first finger against Sirius’s hole. He hardly gave him any time to get used to the sensation before he was pushing inside.  
  
 _Wow, he wasn’t kidding,_ Sirius thought as he sucked in a breath, biting his lip so he wouldn’t make any more humiliating noises – he didn’t care that no-one outside the room could hear him; _Julian_ could hear, and that was bad enough.  
  
     Julian kept stealing glances at his face as he invaded him with a second finger, then a third, his pace faltering with every covert gaze directed at Sirius's expression, until he seemed to come to the conclusion that Sirius was distracting him too much and ordered him to turn over, getting Sirius on all fours as he resumed preparing him.  
  
     [I could come by just looking at you,] he told Sirius in a voice much deeper and rougher than had ever come from Julian before, using his free hand to stroke Sirius’s cock as he began adding the torment of his tongue between steady assaults by his fingers, [but I want to come inside you first.]  
  
     Sirius allowed himself to be lulled into a relaxed state by the powerful combination of Julian’s husky voice and his expert touch, but his jittery nerves came rushing back into his gut when he felt the press of Julian's hard cock against his backside, and he felt compelled to say, "Go easy – it’s my first time … well, with a man."  
  
     [So my puppy’s a virgin?] Julian didn’t sound surprised, but there was a hint of triumph in his voice that irked Sirius. After all, he wasn’t really a virgin; he’d had sex plenty of times, but never with –  
  
 _Wait, did he just call me a ‘puppy’?_ Sirius fumed, his preoccupation with the word blinding him to the fact that Julian had positioned himself right at Sirius’s well-stretched hole, and before he knew it, Julian had slid the tip of his cock into the his arse.  
  
     "Ngh!" The sound escaped Sirius before he could stifle it.  
  
     [Not a scream, but it’s a start,] Julian teased him between his own low moans of satisfaction at finally getting to claim his intended mate. [Gods, you feel so good.]  
  
     He showed remarkable control, taking his time filling Sirius for the first time, mindful of his initial discomfort, but once those twinges of pain no longer wracked Sirius’s body, he could actually feel the change in Julian – as if the sun had suddenly dropped from the sky, plunging everything into darkness. It didn’t frighten him – but his body trembled anyway.  
  
     Julian clamped one hand on his shoulder, the other loosely clasping his hip, then set a vicious pace that tore a hoarse cry out of Sirius, his arms shaking as he fought to hold himself up. He’d expected Julian to be a little … _rough_ … due to everything he’d heard about Shadowclaws, but he never expected just how much he’d enjoy the ferocity of being taken fast and hard by another man, let alone a creature of darkness like Julian.  
  
     [You’re mine now,] Julian whispered into his mind, and the hand that was gripping his shoulder so tightly moved to tilt Sirius’s head to the side, affording Julian a perfect view of the pale skin of his throat.  
  
     Sirius felt Julian’s lips press against that area between his neck and shoulder, and somehow he knew what Julian planned – but he did nothing to stop it, even going so far as to bare even more of his vulnerable neck to Julian's mouth.  
  
     [Mine … _forever_.] Julian licked the sweat from his skin then clamped down on the spot with agonizing force, his teeth sinking deep into Sirius’s flesh and wrenching a hiss of pain from the Sirius's lips. Julian released him, only to bite him again in exactly the same place, then again, timing each bite to coincide with the slam of his cock into Sirius’s arse. To Sirius, it felt as if Julian was plunging a white-hot knife into his neck over and over again, and the pain of it was seriously impeding his enjoyment of Julian’s excellent technique.  
  
     [I’ll make it feel good,] Julian purred, moving his other hand from Sirius’s hip to his cock. [I promise.]  
  
     Sirius could feel Julian invade his mind, gently this time, and without that terrible, monstrous strength that had sent Sirius into a panic earlier. Sweet Elvish, like a numbing tonic, spread through his thoughts and forced his body to relax, inadvertently allowing Julian to thrust deeper (much to his vocal delight) but also – and this was more important in Sirius’s view – turning what had been blinding pain into the most erotic sensation he’d ever experienced, so that when Julian sank his teeth into the same bleeding wound, it sent such an electric surge of pleasure through Sirius’s body that he came all over Julian’s hand.  
  
     [My little puppy just wet himself. I should make you lick it up. Would you like to lick all this sticky come from my fingers, Sirius?]  
  
     Sirius groaned, inexplicably turned on by Julian’s raunchy commentary, so caught up in the moment that he didn’t hesitate to suck Julian's fingers into his mouth when they were offered to him, tasting his own come for the first time.  
  
     [Mmm, tastes good, right?]  
  
     Sirius moaned a protest when Julian pulled his fingers away, and Julian chuckled.  
  
     [I’ll give you something better to suck on, later.]  
  
     A mental image of being face-down in Julian’s lap while giving him head flashed through Sirius’s mind and he let out a gasping cry, knowing that it wasn’t his own imagination that had conjured up that particular scene.  
  
     [That mouth of yours will fit perfectly around my cock.] Julian sucked hard on the wound on Sirius’s neck, still pounding into him without mercy, and the combined sensations were enough to stir Sirius’s cock to life again.  
  
 _Gods, that should be impossible_ , he noted dazedly, sinking down onto his forearms, unable to hold himself up on his hands any longer. The new angle had Julian hitting his sweet spot again and again and again, and Sirius let go of any sense of modesty or decorum he had left as he screamed for more, grateful now that Julian had protected their privacy with that Mori spell.  
  
     [Fuck, that’s hot,] Julian pressed the breathless thought into Sirius’s mind with an unseen grin, clearly delighted by his uninhibited response. [Keep screaming for me – I want to hear your voice.]  
  
     Sirius tried to disobey, contrary even on the brink of orgasm, but no matter how hard he tried to swallow his cries, Julian forced them out with every slap of his hips against Sirius’s arse, mixing with the slick, wet sound of their bodies joining together again and again, until Julian slowed to a few jerky thrusts and came with a groan, spilling his seed inside of Sirius with a sigh of long-awaited relief. The unexpected sensation of being filled with his lover’s come sent Sirius spiraling into his own release, his contracting muscles milking every last drop from Julian’s softening member.  
  
     Sirius collapsed, rolling over onto his back once Julian withdrew. He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath while simultaneously trying to ignore the fact that he’d just been fucked in the arse and had liked it so much that he’d screamed for more.  
  
 _Yup, definitely ignoring that fact_ , he told himself.  
  
     "Mmm, you were brilliant," Julian gushed, his eyes still feral yellow. His high-wattage smile had Sirius squinting; how could he be so energetic? It wasn’t as if Sirius had done much of the work just now … so why wasn’t Julian just as tired as he was?  
  
 _I can’t even say it’s because I’m older,_ Sirius thought with a weary sigh.  
  
     "And now," Julian said with a wicked grin, regaining Sirius's complete attention as he repositioned himself between Sirius’s thighs, "time for round two."  
  
  
  
  
  
     Hours later, and after several ‘rounds,’ Julian lay next to him, softly snoring, while Sirius - wide awake - glowered at the ceiling.  
  
 _I'm exhausted, so why can't I sleep?_ It didn't help that Julian had skipped straight off to dreamland the instant his head hit the pillow, leaving Sirius alone to contemplate what had just happened ... and how it changed everything.  
  
     He glanced over at Julian, then turned on his side so he could watch him sleep, brushing a strand of hair off his cheek and smiling when Julian wrinkled his nose and mumbled incoherently in response.  
  
 _Bastard. Quit looking so cute,_ he thought, running his thumb over Julian's bottom lip.  
  
     " _Mmmm_ … Sirius …"  
  
     Sirius froze, heart pounding, as if he'd just been caught doing something unforgivably naughty, but he quickly came to realize that Julian was only talking in his sleep. He chuckled. He could only imagine what sort of dreams Julian was having.  
  
     "I’m right here," he said quietly, reaching out for him again.  
  
     Julian groaned and rolled over, facing away from Sirius and leaving him feeling somewhat slighted. Was his dream-self that much better than the reality? He studied the smooth skin and sleek lines of Julian's back, tracing a finger along his spine down to the small of his back, then continuing on out of sheer curiosity, involving his whole hand in the exploration of the curves of Julian’s bottom.  
  
 _No one should have an arse that perfect_ , he complained silently, in awe of Julian’s body but also self-conscious about his own aging form. What did Julian find so attractive about him? What could he possibly offer this vivacious creature?  
  
     Julian moaned and arched his back, pressing his bottom against Sirius’s hand in a wanton invitation for more. Sirius’s heart started to beat faster, his cock swelling in response to the mewling noises he was making, and he stroked his fingers down the crevice of Julian’s arse to his anus, rubbing tentatively at that ring of muscle.  
  
 _He’s so hot right here …_ Sirius stuck two fingers in his mouth, slicking them, then slowly worked one finger into Julian’s arse, smiling when Julian gasped, his spine stiffening for the first few seconds before he gave a shuddering sigh and relaxed, wriggling his hips back to meet that probing finger. Pressing a kiss to Julian’s shoulder, Sirius slid the second finger inside, amazed at the heat, and he wondered just how good that heat would feel surrounding his cock. 

  
 _He wouldn’t mind if I had a go, would he? He must have taken me at least four times … it’s only fair that I get my turn_...  
  
     Sirius had withdrawn his fingers (wringing a hushed cry of disappointment from Julian in the process) and was now guiding his hard cock to the morion’s arse, rubbing the tip against Julian’s quivering hole in breathless anticipation.  
  
     "Whaddaya doing?" Julian mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed and his voice slightly slurred. "You wanna get me pregnant?"  
  
     Sirius’s erection immediately wilted.  
  
 _That’s a mood-killer if I ever heard one_ , he thought, but Julian had other ideas, rolling over again to face Sirius and burying his face against his neck, his tongue seeking the mark he’d made, every playful lick sending shudders through Sirius’s body.  
  
     " _Lle desiel ten’amin_?" Julian’s voice was tender as he whispered musical Elvish into Sirius’s ear. The rougher, wilder side of his personality seemed to have gone dormant, sated after the numerous times he’d claimed Sirius already. " _Lle merna karnel_?"  
  
     Sirius had no clue what Julian was asking him, but he could deduce that it had something to do with the way he was stroking Sirius's thigh. Julian’s eyes were a dark chocolate hue and slightly unfocused, so it was hard to tell if he was fully awake or not, but Sirius was fine with letting Julian think it was all a dream.  
  
     "Yes," he whispered back, pulling Julian on top of him, closing his eyes as Julian settled himself between Sirius's legs, pushed his thighs back against his body, and entered him in one fluid thrust, needing no preparation after the many times he’d plowed that tight hole earlier in the evening.  
  
     They rocked together, silent save for Julian’s panting and Sirius’s soft moans, and when it was over, Sirius fell asleep to the sound of Julian’s melodic voice murmuring Elvish endearments in his ear, his heart lighter than it had been in a long, long time.  


* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
     Julian woke to absolute peace. No feelings of dread. No frustrated desires. Only a deep, soul-mending contentment, as if every burden in his life, every regret and every unfulfilled wish, had faded away along with his beloved night. Eyes still closed, he smiled and tightened his embrace on the man sleeping soundly in his arms, too caught up in the bliss of such a perfect start to the morning that he didn’t give a thought to the stresses of the night.  
  
     It wasn’t until he nuzzled Sirius’s neck and Sirius moaned softly in pained pleasure that Julian’s eyes flew open and awareness swept in like a tsunami. He pulled back to get a better look at Sirius’s neck, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the dark bruises and the dried blood, the scratches and the teeth marks – and there, in the crook between neck and shoulder, was where he’d made his mark: several overlying bites made deep enough to scar. It was a part of the mating ritual that belonged distinctly to the Shadowclaw bloodline. He’d taken his mate, regardless of whether Sirius wanted it or not.  
  
     Julian’s head swam, his memory of the night before decidedly fuzzy. He could recall the glorious sensation of being surrounded by Sirius’s hot flesh, and he could remember every groan and every cry of pleasure he’d wrung from his lips, but had Sirius ever actually _consented_? He’d told Sirius to go away when he had come knocking on his door last night, but when Sirius had refused, had even seemed to challenge Julian, then his instincts had taken control and he’d surrendered to that feral part of himself that so rarely showed itself.  
  
     He gently eased out of the bed, careful not to wake Sirius, and went on a search for his clothes. His trousers were slung on the back of a chair, and he found his shirt hanging off the tall armoire next to the dresser, but it took several guesses before he eventually found his boxers underneath the bed. He slipped into them, dressing quickly. Once he’d finished, he rolled his shoulders, easing out the kinks, then tucked his shirt-tails into his trousers. All the while, he kept his gaze averted from the sight of Sirius lying naked underneath the threadbare sheet that covered him from the waist down. It was torture to finally have Sirius in his bed but not be free to wake him for an early morning tryst or even a kiss. He knew it was cowardly to avoid confronting Sirius about whether last night changed anything for them, but Julian felt the need to delay that conversation for as long as possible.  
  
 _Best to keep my illusions intact_ , he thought with a rueful smile. For the first time in his life, Julian was afraid of the truth. He decided that work would be a welcome distraction – hadn’t he promised to hunt down a lead on the wizard in that police report? Besides, he had his own, personal reasons for investigating the matter. If his old friend was in trouble, Julian wanted to help him.  
  
     He broke the spell on the door (which had included locking the door as well as soundproofing the room - his feral self had gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure Sirius couldn't run away) and, sparing one last glance at his sleeping lover, he crept out of the room and down the stairs. He was surprised to see Severus standing next to the window that looked out onto the street in front of the house, his brother fully dressed and gazing in rapt attention at something beyond the windowpane, but it all made sense once Julian stole up behind him, peering over his shoulder to see Harry sitting alone outside.  
  
     [Is everything alright? Why’s Harry outside?]  
  
     [He’s been up since dawn. Nightmares. He wouldn’t tell me what he saw.]  
  
     [Voldemort?]  
  
     [No, he wouldn’t keep that a secret from me. This was … personal.]  
  
     Julian watched Severus for any sign of resentment or bitterness, but if his brother was feeling slighted by Harry’s secrecy, he certainly wasn’t showing it. In fact, there was a sense of calm acceptance in the way Severus spoke, as if he recognized Harry’s reluctance to share the horrors of his dreams as being Harry’s way of trying to protect him. A small smile curved Julian’s lips. The connection between Severus and Harry seemed to be deeper than ever. Perhaps this was why Rauko had interfered in Severus’s turning.  
  
     [I just know the way Harry thinks,] Severus said stiffly, having picked up on Julian’s silent deliberations. [He’ll tell me everything eventually, in his own time.]  
  
     [It wouldn’t hurt to press him on this,] Julian said, then hurried to explain when Severus narrowed his eyes in suspicion, [Harry’s dreams aren’t always just dreams. He might have seen something important – something to help prepare us for what lies ahead. We’re Shadowclaws, so our talents lie elsewhere – I’ve never had a prophetic vision in my entire life, and I doubt you will either – but Harry is part of a bloodline that breeds more seers than all the other bloodlines put together. Still, seeing and understanding are two different things.]  
  
     Julian paused as he realized he’d just quoted Rauko. Rauko was prone to emphasizing the importance of sharing visions (though Julian sometimes wondered if it was just a lazy way for Rauko to snoop into everyone else’s business) as a means of discerning what the dreams meant. Shrugging off his unease, Julian continued on.  
  
     [Sometimes it helps to get a fresh perspective.]  
  
     [Well, I gave you plenty of ‘fresh perspective’ when it came to that miserable mutt, but it smells like you didn’t hear a word of it,] Severus said with a disdainful sniff.  
  
 _Damn_ , Julian thought, realizing that by skipping a shower he was going to be wearing a heavy dose of Sirius’s scent on him for the rest of the day. Aside from the annoyance of broadcasting his nighttime activities to any Mori he came into close contact with, Julian had the added dilemma of explaining why the scent on his clothes and skin smelled so distinctly like a wizard – and a fellow Shadowclaw would be sensitive enough to recognize that the wizard was a pureblood, opening an even bigger can of worms. Maybe he’d stop by his flat for a quick shower and a change before starting his investigation.  
  
     [Let me recommend two bars of soap … and I’d burn the clothes if I were you.] Severus’s slow drawl did little to soften his biting tone.  
  
     Julian held his tongue and let the comments pass. He didn’t have the energy to argue with Severus, and he still felt so guilty about his actions towards Sirius that he half-wondered if a long, hard scrub and the destruction of his clothes would more likely be _Sirius’s_ reaction upon waking – in the end, would he try and erase any evidence that he’d been in Julian’s bed? The knot in Julian’s stomach tightened.  
  
     Severus narrowed his beetle-black eyes, studying his brother more closely now but stopping just short of delving into Julian’s mind for answers. He seemed to appreciate that now was not the time to invade his brother’s privacy.  
  
     Instead, he gestured to the door. [If you’re going to run off, at least let Harry know where you’re going and for how long. He worries about you.]  
  
     Julian smiled as he overheard the same sentiments of concern echoing in Severus’s thoughts, the words no less touching for having gone unspoken. [I’ll see you later, then, Little Brother.]  
  
     Severus scoffed at the appellation, muttering his own farewell, then turned back to the window and his view of Harry. Julian grinned and shrugged into his coat, then opened the front door and walked out into the cold winter morning. Corpulent gray clouds crowded the sky, nearly popping with the promise of snow, but Julian welcomed the threat of bad weather since it kept the sun at bay – adding sun-sickness to the other stresses of the day might have proved too much for him.  
  
     Harry sat on the front steps, using a stray twig to poke and prod at the sidewalk, so immersed in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear or sense Julian’s approach until the click of the door closing signaled that he was no longer alone. He glanced over his shoulder at Julian, a tired smile forming on his face, and he patted the space next to him in invitation.  
  
     Julian sat next to Harry on the stone steps. "Getting some fresh air, are you?"  
  
     "The baby likes cold weather," Harry explained with a shrug. His eyes were a vivid shade of sour apple green as he looked at Julian, taking in the recycled outfit and fresh-out-of-bed hairstyle with a growing smile, though that touch of melancholy in his eyes deepened when he saw a reflection of his own dejected spirits in Julian’s expression. His lips parted to speak, but then he hesitated, his mind brushing against Julian’s tentatively. What he found seemed to comfort him, because he suddenly blurted out, "Don’t give up on Sirius, okay? He’s a stubborn ass, I know, but he’s worth the wait. I promise."  
  
     Julian smiled. "You don’t have to convince me of that."  
  
     Harry went back to poking at the cracks in the cement with his stick, distracted again, as if he hadn’t quite surfaced from the chaos of his nightmares.  
  
     "No, I guess not. But then why would you – " he shook himself, tossing the stick aside and dusting off his bandaged hands as he stood up. "Why are you up so early, anyway?"  
  
     "I thought I’d look into that police report that Hermione mentioned – the one involving the old wizard, remember?"  
  
     "Right, the one she thinks is Culpepper. I nearly forgot about that. When do you think you’ll be back?"  
  
     "Later tonight." Logically, he knew it would be best if he stayed away from Grimmauld Place until his breeding cycle had passed, but logic had nothing to do with what he felt for Sirius. He would wait and see how Sirius responded to him tonight. If Sirius wanted him gone, he’d go. He didn’t have the right to protest – even though he’d thoroughly claimed and marked Sirius as his own ... multiple times … in multiple positions … until Sirius had begged for him to –  
  
     "Julian!"  
  
     He blinked and looked up. Harry appeared to be caught somewhere between laughter and embarrassment.  
  
     "Sorry, just following an earlier train of thought," Julian murmured, apologizing with yet another of his endearingly sheepish grins.  
  
     "Uh-huh." Harry squinted at him skeptically, then he grinned, any lingering sadness banished from his expression as he started walking back up the steps to the front door. "Hurry back. There’s going to be a meeting tonight."  
  
     "I’ll be there," Julian promised, waiting until Harry crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him before rising to his feet, his sore muscles groaning in protest of every movement.  
  
 _Haven’t used some of those muscles in a loooong time_ , he thought to himself, experiencing that rare feeling of being insanely happy yet completely devastated at the same time. Had he enjoyed the first of many blissful nights with Sirius? Or would he be forced to be content with one night, and one night only?  


* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
     Sirius yawned and stretched his arms, his hands reaching for the warm body that had pressed against his during those few hours of sleep. When his search came up empty, he sat up, opened his eyes, and took a good look around the room.  
  
     Alone.  
  
     Nothing new. He’d been waking up alone for longer than he could remember, but this time – this time, it stung. Where had Julian gone? Had he decided that now that he’d finally ‘caught’ Sirius, he didn’t want him anymore? Even his thoughts felt vacant of Julian's influence, meaning Julian was avoiding him, or he was no longer in the same house … or both.  
  
     Rauko’s comment about taking Julian to the Underground came back to Sirius, and in a flash he was off the bed and rummaging around in the drawers and the closet, his panic subsiding with every piece of clothing he found stowed away or draped over a hanger. He took a minute to catch his breath, sinking down onto the floor with a wince, mindful of his nudity and his sore bottom.  
  
     "I’m too old for this," he said with a scowl, holding his head in his hands as he tried to get a handle on his emotions. When had it happened? When had his feelings progressed from mere lust to genuine affection? He wouldn’t call it love – it was much too soon for that, and there were still so many things he didn’t know about Julian – but it was strong, whatever it was, and it had his heart in a vice. If nothing else, the sex was mind-blowing, but he knew Julian wanted more than just sex, and Sirius still wasn't sure that he could give him what he needed.  
  
     His neck ached horribly, but he didn’t want to face a mirror just yet. He’d need some heavy glamours to cover all the bite marks Julian had inflicted on him. He brushed his fingertips over the worst of it – a wound so deep that it would definitely leave a scar – and a shiver of awareness danced up his spine, so different from the steady throb of his other wounds. There was some kind of magic involved there, a subtle spell, perhaps part of some Mori ritual, but who could Sirius turn to for answers? Julian had disappeared (and would definitely be paying for his absence later) and he couldn’t ask Harry. Snape? Sirius pulled a face. No, anyone but Snape. And Rauko wasn’t a safe source of information, either. He might have a negative reaction to knowing Sirius had purposefully ignored his warnings.  
  
 _Lisette_ , he thought, zeroing in on the only person left that he could turn to for help. He could also ask her about the Elvish that Julian had spoken – why couldn’t he just stick to English in the throes of passion?  
  
     He slowly stood up, frustrated with his shaky legs and strained muscles. How could something as brilliant as being shagged by Julian become such a literal pain in the arse come morning? He didn’t even bother denying that it had been just that – brilliant – but he’d have to impress on Julian that waking up partially crippled was not Sirius’s idea of fun.  
  
     "Not that I always want him to be gentle," he murmured to himself, losing himself in a memory of when Julian had sank his teeth into Sirius’s thigh while jerking him off, but he shook himself out of that daydream when the unthinkable happened and he actually felt himself getting aroused. How could his body be responding after what Julian had put it through? Shouldn’t there be some sort of recovery period after a marathon like that? He shoved all thoughts of sex with Julian out of his mind (much harder to do than he’d have guessed it to be) and willed his erection away. There was no way he’d take care of himself when it was Julian's fault he was in this situation. He’d make sure that Julian took responsibility for what he’d started.  
  
     A knock sounded at the door, followed by Harry’s voice.  
  
     "Sirius? Are you in there?"  
  
 _Bloody hell_ , Sirius thought, scrambling around for his robes.  
  
     "Your room was empty, and Julian was acting weird, so I thought …" The doorknob started to turn.  
  
     Sirius panicked and shifted to his dog form, then crawled underneath the bed and out of sight just as the door swung open.  
  
     "… maybe you were in here," Harry finished flatly as he surveyed the seemingly-empty room.  
  
     Harry gave a little huff and turned on his heel, walking out of the room muttering, "I can’t even trust my own instincts anymore."  
  
     Sirius waited until he couldn’t hear Harry’s footsteps anymore, then crawled out from under the bed. He contemplated changing back, but his mind felt clearer and calmer while he was Padfoot, and it would save him from having to answer any questions that might come his way, so he decided to keep that form until Julian came back.  
  
     He darted out the open bedroom door and padded down the hallway in search of Harry, but he found his way down the stairs blocked by a stone-faced Snape, probably on his way to wake Dorian for breakfast.  
  
     For a second, it looked like Snape would simply ignore him and let him pass by, but then he said coldly, "Hurt my brother, Black, and I’ll make sure no one ever finds your body."  
  
     He swept past Sirius without another word, and without giving Sirius the chance to even growl a response.  
  
 _Hey, **he** jumped **me**!_ Sirius wanted to scream at Snape, but since he'd caved in to Julian's advances, he didn't think he would make a very convincing victim.  
  
 _Is this going to be worth all the aggravation?_ Sirius chose to save that question for later, and bounded down the stairs in search of his godson. After all, why worry about uncertainties now?  
  
     Once Julian came back … _then_ he would have his answers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **Lle desiel ten'amin?** \- Are you ready for me?  
>  **Lle merna karnel?** \- Do you want to make love?


	47. Memories

 

       _He was in a dark, unfamiliar hallway, fenced in by invisible barriers, the walls and floors and even the ceiling heavily warded by powerful magic. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, one hand placed protectively over his stomach, the other feeling along the wall as he stumbled half-blind with pain through the silent corridors of the house. He was on an upper floor (he didn't stop to question why or how he knew that) and his instincts told him to run the other way, but there was something he needed to find. Wait, was it something ... or **someone**? All he knew was that it was imperative for him to search every room he could, and quickly.   
  
       His skin burned as if he'd fallen into a vat full of pyracantha berries, and the pain of it made it hard for him to focus on where he was going. He felt a weak kick against the hand on his stomach, and he silently whispered calm assurances to the child inside him, somehow managing to calm the baby's fears while his own worries seemed to magnify. All other connections in his mind were dulled somehow - Severus's presence was far away and faint, and trying to reach out to anyone else felt like trying to scream into the void - but he did hear, distantly, his mate's promise that he would find Harry.   
  
       'Find me? Am I lost?' he asked himself, groaning when he lost his balance and crashed sideways into the wall, pure agony flaring in his shoulder from where his flesh scraped against the paneling, and for the first time he realized that he was naked except for his boxers. 'Where are my clothes?'   
  
       He didn't let it trouble him for long ... he doubted he could have endured clothing against his oversensitive skin anyway. A few feet away, he could see a sliver of light peeking out beneath the double doors of the room at the end of the hallway. A voice in his head - a spirit? No, but it sounded familiar - ordered Harry to go back, telling him that he was walking into danger, but he ignored the warning and moved towards the ornately-carved doors with renewed clarity and determination.   
  
       [If I were Severus, you'd listen to me,] the voice accused him, exasperated, and Harry realized who he was hearing ...   
  
       'Julian,' he thought, pressing his hand to the door, much in the same way that Dorian would press his tiny palms against the wood to focus on what lay beyond the barrier in front of him. Julian was what he'd come looking for ... Julian was who he needed to find.   
  
       He clumsily turned the glass doorknobs with his injured hands and pushed both doors open, revealing an opulent, lamp-lit bedchamber filled with beautiful but aged furniture, the walls populated by dust-covered portraits of solemn, thin-faced men and women, all clearly related, all infused with a common disinterest in the room they surveyed from their high perches, as if the activities of the living were beneath their notice. Only one portrait was not magical - a drawing of two young men, the shorter of the two resting his head on the other's shoulder, both of them smiling at some secret amusement only they two shared; it was done in charcoals, a very rude sketch that lacked refinement, but someone had treasured it enough to frame it and hang it on the same wall as the family portraits, much to the disdain of its moving, magical companions.   
  
       Harry wanted very much to get closer to that portrait, to study the faces that looked so familiar to him, especially that of the taller boy, straight-backed and confident, an infectious joy in his expression, his long hair messily framing a face too perfect to be human -- but a rustling of silk caught Harry's attention and made him forget all about the unusual sketch.   
  
       [Julian?]   
  
       He turned towards the bed and saw his friend struggling to sit upright on the crimson-stainedsheets, naked and bleeding, long scratches on his chest and hips, bite marks and bruises marring his pale, smooth skin - and yet Harry could practically taste the heavy magical glamour that Julian was using to hide some worse trauma from Harry's eyes, just as Aiya had done ...   
  
       'No, I can't be here,' Harry thought. 'It's too much. I don't want to see this.'   
  
       And all at once they were at the Lennox house in Dorian's bedroom, and Julian was clothed again and free of his wounds, though Harry continued to smell that thick scent of magical glamours - and something else, something he'd smelled before, that made him think of Professor Lyr.   
  
       "Ahh," Julian said, looking around. "The lesser of two evils? I think I prefer this backdrop to the other. There's still some innocence to this room, at least."   
  
       Harry shivered and backed away towards the door. [Why are we here? Let's go back to Grimmauld Place.]   
  
       "There's nothing there for me now, Harry," Julian said, shrugging out of his coat, making himself comfortable in the wrecked bedroom. "You go. Save yourself."   
  
       [What do you mean there's nothing there for you? What about Sirius?]   
  
       Julian sat down on Dorian's bed, the springs squeaking, and now Harry could see the fine, silver chain that circled Julian's neck, like a collar for a wild, exotic animal, and a length of the same silver chain dangled down the front of Julian's chest and pooled on the floor, not connected to anything visible, but it seemed to be enough to keep Julian tied to the room.   
  
       "Sirius? What about him?"   
  
       [You want to be with him, don't you?]   
  
       Julian sighed, devoid of his usual energy, his voice flat and toneless. "I'm really tired, Harry. Can we talk about this later?"   
  
       [What's wrong with you? Why do you want to stay here? Sirius will miss you if you don't come back.]   
  
       "He'll get over it," Julian growled, unnaturally harsh, his eyes suddenly changing from warm gold to dark, dark brown - a shade of brown that Harry had never seen in Julian's eyes, a shade of brown he'd only seen in someone's eyes once, briefly - and he was suddenly very frightened. He nearly tripped over his own feet to get away, running out of the door and into the hallway.   
  
       Out of nowhere, beams of light pierced Harry's skin like shards of broken glass, holding him prisoner while robbing him of the support of his shadows and dispelling the dark energy that he could have used to free himself.   
  
       "Comfortable, Potter?"   
  
       The slippery voice that crooned into his ear left Harry feeling soiled somehow, that cultured accent making his skin crawl in an all-too-familiar way. A hand grasped his chin, tilting his face up, forcing him to meet the icy gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy.   
  
       "I'm going to enjoy breaking you."   
  
       'No,' Harry thought. 'This isn't real. It's just a dream.'   
  
       But the fingers trailing over his chest felt very real, the nails raking down his naked, sun-scorched torso. He closed his eyes, smothering the sob that rose in his throat. The light left him powerless to do anything but suffer Lucius's touch in tortured silence, his throat raw and wounded from screaming, though he didn't know when or why the injury to his voice had occurred.   
  
       "You burn so easily," Lucius remarked smoothly, his cool fingers acting as an unwelcome but undeniable balm against Harry's tight, sun-burned skin. "They should not have left you in that room for so long."   
  
       Flashes of a sun-lit, plant-filled room assaulted Harry's mind, disorienting him, and his stomach muscles clenched in remembered pain, the baby kicking its distress.   
  
       "I'll take away the pain," Lucius promised, his lips at Harry's ear, his hands sliding down to clutch at Harry's hips, "for a price."_   
  
  
       Harry bolted awake, gulping in mouthfuls of air, his eyes wide with terror.   
  
       "Harry? What is it?"   
  
       Severus reached for him, but he quickly pulled back when Harry flinched and shrank away from the touch.   
  
       [Not yet. Don't touch me yet.]   
  
       Harry squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the urge to vomit, wanting nothing more than to purge every nightmarish second of his vision from both body and mind, especially since he imagined he could still feel Lucius's hands on his hips, his mouth against his ear ...   
  
       "That fucking bastard," he hissed, nearly bursting with anger and revulsion. He felt stiff and feverish, as if the injuries he suffered in his dream continued to afflict him in his waking hours, and he could feel dark energy building inside of him in response, feeding greedily on Harry's fury and disgust, putting his magic literally at his fingertips, his hands shaking with the effort to contain it.   
  
       At that moment, he would have gladly killed Lucius Malfoy - and laughed about it afterwards.   
  
       A tremor of fear from the baby interrupted his homicidal fantasies and he exhaled his anger in one big whoosh, rubbing his stomach to soothe the baby within. He leaned over and pressed an apologetic kiss to Severus's lips, ignoring the curiosity and concern (and mild annoyance) in Severus's expression as he kept his barriers raised. The last thing Harry wanted was for Severus to catch second-hand glimpses of Lucius Malfoy molesting him.   
  
       [Just a bad dream,] he said, and he crawled out of bed and mechanically began dressing himself, choosing jeans and a t-shirt, though he was uncomfortable in even the lightest apparel as his body temperature continued to soar.   
  
       [I need some air,] he added, walking out of their bedroom at Grimmauld Place without waiting for Severus's reply.   
  
       They'd returned to Order headquarters the previous day accompanied by Julian and Dorian and found the house populated with a second set of guests: Rauko and Lisette. Their reunion started on a cold, wet note - Julian, acting on some impish impulse, had confessed to Harry that Rauko masterminded the plot to keep Harry and Severus separated during the latter's turning, not out of any necessary precaution but for maniacal reasons of his own that not even Julian could fathom. Harry had confronted Rauko with the truth ... and an entire pitcher of cold milk that dumped itself onto Rauko's head, seemingly of its own accord.   
  
       He broke Rauko's glass at one point, too, though that had been an accident. He wasn't getting any better at controlling the dark energy that reacted so powerfully to his emotions; naturally, he blamed this on his pregnancy, but Severus was of the opinion that Harry had never been good at controlling his emotions, and that this explosive magical manifestation of his strongest feelings only served to emphasize Harry's need for a more disciplined mind.   
  
       Unlike Harry, Severus at least gave a good show of keeping his emotions leashed, admonishing Rauko with only a cold stare and silence (hardly punishments, in Harry's mind, but Rauko had acted like he was crushed by Severus's response), but he'd slipped a few times - bickering with Sirius over Julian, or growling his jealousy when Harry made an innocent plea for Julian to remain at Grimmauld Place (the words "I need him here ... with me" had not gone over well), followed soon by a death threat when Julian, appointed their teacher in all things Mori, had questioned whether he could spank Harry if he misbehaved.   
  
       Overall, aside from being furious at Rauko's manipulations, everything else about the day had been a welcome distraction for Harry, preventing him from thinking too hard about his run-in with Professor Lyr. It was Severus who insisted they leave Hogwarts immediately, rejecting Dumbledore's assurances that Harry was perfectly safe, and he'd uprooted their makeshift family and transported it to Grimmauld Place within an hour of Harry's enlightening 'chat' with Lyr.   
  
       _"I know you, Albus," Severus had snarled, sending clothes and toys and books zigging and zagging across the room with agitated flicks of his wand as he packed their possessions for the trip. "You want to draw Lyr out, see if he tips his hand, and the whole time you'll be using Harry as bait. Well, not this time. You're putting both my lover and my unborn child in danger, and I won't let you use them like that."_  
  
       Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Dumbledore so shocked. To soften the blow, Harry had taken Dumbledore aside and suggested an Order meeting for the following evening, promising that he and Severus would attend. Harry completely agreed with Severus that putting their child in danger was unacceptable, but neither could they totally turn their backs on the war effort. Getting rid of Voldemort was essential to securing a safe, happy future for their child.   
  
       Dumbledore had stood and stared at him for a moment - stared hard, as if he and Harry were strangers and this was their first introduction, a funny little smile on his lips as the twinkle flared back into his bright blue eyes - and he'd nodded slowly.   
  
       _"I've been fooling myself, Harry," he'd said, giving Harry's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Defeating one dark lord in my lifetime should be enough, don't you think?"_  
  
       And then he had said his quiet farewells and walked away, leaving Harry confused - and strangely saddened - by his cryptic response.   
  
       _Not that I expected a straight answer from him,_ Harry thought with a fond smile. He didn't always agree with Dumbledore's decisions, but he still held a soft spot for the wizard who'd guided and protected him those first few years at Hogwarts. The fact that he'd outgrown his dependency on Dumbledore only made Harry more nostalgic for the days when he'd looked up to him with the awe of a child.   
  
       He paused at the foot of the stairs and caught the tell-tale creak of floorboards on the landing above him. Apparently, Severus was only willing to give him the _illusion_ of solitude.   
  
       [Are you just going to follow me around all morning?] Harry worked hard to keep the irritation out of his voice, but it was hard to hide his feelings from Severus. This was a man who could strip his soul bare with a single look. Hiding anything from him - even the smallest flicker of annoyance - took more focus and concentration than Harry had on this particular morning, even with his barriers raised.   
  
       For a minute, it seemed as if Severus was going to ignore the question, but then he replied rather brusquely, [I'll keep my distance.]   
  
       Harry bit back the apology that surged into his throat and continued on his way to the door, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, nearly panting from the heat that enveloped him. The baby, grumpy and fussy and overheated, kept tugging at their connection, making its needs known with flashes of icy blue and wintery white that exploded like tiny fireworks against the darkness of Harry's thoughts.   
  
       [We're almost there,] he said soothingly, taking one of the coats from the rack by the door and putting it on, buttoning it up to his chin despite the heat flash searing through his body. He really wasn't in the mood for the inevitable lecture from Severus on why coats were not optional attire during the winter months.   
  
       He opened the front door and stepped outside, yelping at the sudden smack of cold air against his feverish skin. The baby immediately sent waves of happiness into Harry's brain and he chuckled - the baby loved cold temperatures, and had even started protesting against hot showers, so the hottest water that Harry could get away with was barely lukewarm. The dungeons had been perfectly suited to the baby's tastes, and Grimmauld Place was cool and drafty, so he could usually placate the baby by wearing light clothing and sleeping without a blanket (though sometimes a heated moment with Severus would be interrupted by the baby's incessant appeals for something cold). The child's cleverness could already be seen in the way it would sometimes manipulate Harry's mind to explain what it wanted - if the baby was too hot, Harry might suddenly start to think of snow or ice cream, or if the baby wanted to be around its 'big brother' (another extremely common occurrence), Harry would be unable to get Dorian's face or voice out of his thoughts.   
  
       [We can't stay out here for too long,] he said in a firm, parental tone, but his words were belied by his indulgent smile. He and Severus talked as often as they could to their child, following Lisette's advice, and every day Harry could feel their bond grow stronger and stronger, and the baby's responses, in turn, became more complex. He sat down on the front steps of the house, picked up a stray twig that had been ripped from some nearby tree by the winter wind, and used it to poke and dig at the cracks in the cement.   
  
       The sky was overcast, providing a gloomy backdrop for the early hours of the morning, but Harry felt completely at home beneath the dark, heavy clouds - they matched his mood, and they protected both Harry and the baby from the sun, which meant Harry could linger outside for much longer than usual. These days, it only took a few minutes of full sunlight for Harry's skin to start to itch and burn, and the baby's reaction to any sunlight at all was to yank frantically at their connection, its distress and fear so intense that it often gave Harry a nasty headache.   
  
       _Never thought I'd prefer cloudy days to clear ones_ , he mused without any bitterness, too grateful for everything good in his life right now - Severus, Dorian, the baby, all his other friends and family - to truly regret giving up sunny days.   
  
       He tried very hard not to think about his dream, desperate for a few moments of peace as he enjoyed the quietness of the street, and of being awake while the rest of the world slept on, undisturbed, blissfully ignorant of whatever dangers lay ahead.   
  
       _I really don't enjoy being the only one 'in the know' this time_ , Harry decided. As much as he hated it when people withheld information from him, he found it just as frustrating to be the only one to know about something, especially when it seemed that all his precognitive visions were full of pain and loss and sorrow.   
  
       He gave up trying to ignore his vision, choosing instead to distance himself from the personal aspects of it and focus on what he'd seen and smelled and heard. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let his memories take him back to the room where he'd found Julian, hoping he could recognize the faces in that rough sketch he'd seen hanging on the wall, but no matter how hard he concentrated, his mind kept turning to thoughts of the blood-stained bed and the shocking state of his friend, and soon he started to feel a dull pain in his right leg. His eyes flew open and he realized he'd been jamming the end of the stick repeatedly against his jean-clad thigh, as if trying to wake himself from his nightmare all over again.   
  
       _Okay, that didn't go very well._ He moved on to the part of his vision where he'd been in Dorian's bedroom, and as he immersed himself in the memory he could smell that modified _Incendio_ spell that had burned itself into the walls, and something beneath that - something he'd smelled before - and he suddenly realized why he'd thought of Lyr during his vision.   
  
       "That scent," he whispered. "Lyr is the one who cast that spell."   
  
       The same magical scent that had enveloped his professor during their little 'chat' was identical to the underlying scent of the _Incendio_ spell.   
  
       _There's more to it, though,_ Harry thought. He hadn't thought of the scarred posters during that moment of recognition in the Potions classroom, so there had to be something else to Lyr's scent that was familiar to him - something deeper, more intrinsic to Lyr's natural scent.   
  
       Images of Severus intruded on his musings, one after another, like a slideshow in his brain, and he rubbed his stomach as he answered the baby's unspoken request. [Yes, yes, we'll go see your father in a minute. You really are spoiled, you know that?]   
  
       A shiver of happiness, as light and infectious as a giggle, danced in Harry's thoughts, and he couldn't help but chuckle in reply. The only part of his vision that he could find solace in was knowing the baby had been alive and strong enough to communicate with Harry the entire time.   
  
       [No matter what happens, you and I are in this together, right?]   
  
       He heard the door click shut behind him and he glanced over his shoulder, expecting Severus but surprised to see Julian had come outside to join him instead. He forced a smile and patted the empty space beside him, waiting until Julian had sat down before he went back to poking at the cracks in the cement.   
  
       "Getting some fresh air, are you?"   
  
       He shrugged. "The baby likes cold weather."   
  
       He looked over at Julian, who was strangely enough wearing the same clothes he'd worn the day before, his long brown hair in total disarray, as if he'd just come straight from bed. _Interesting_ , he thought, and he found himself smiling, though there was a wariness in Julian's eyes that startled him - it was like his own dark mood was looking back at him through Julian's golden eyes. He thought back to his vision; Julian had been so resigned, so beaten down by something, and his answers to Harry's questions had hinted that he had given up on Sirius - but it could have just been a dream, right?   
  
       _'You aren't that lucky,'_ he reminded himself. He started to ask Julian what was wrong then stopped, unsure how he could ask the question without having to explain his vision first. Instead, he reached out to him, tentatively touching his mind, searching for any sign that Julian had put his affections for Sirius behind him, but he could tell that Julian's thoughts were as fixated on Sirius as they had always been. In fact, Sirius seemed to be taking center stage in Julian's mind, which comforted Harry. He wanted his godfather to be happy, and who better to make that happen than Julian?   
  
       More than ever, he wanted to make absolutely certain that Julian knew he was on his side. He didn't want to just leave everything to chance - maybe a word of encouragement now would prevent whatever crisis had occurred in his vision. "Don't give up on Sirius, okay? He's a stubborn ass, I know, but he's worth the wait. I promise."   
  
       Julian smiled. "You don't have to convince me of that."   
  
       He answered so readily, and with such surprise that Harry would even mention it, that Harry began to feel foolish for having brought it up. Could it have been merely a dream after all?   
  
       "No, I guess not," he said slowly, his thoughts sluggish, his nightmare replaying over and over in the back of his mind. "But then why would you - "   
  
       He caught himself just in time, shaking off the vision and tossing the stick away, wiping his bandaged hands off on his jeans as he stood up. The wounds didn't hurt anymore, but Severus had insisted Harry keep his hands bandaged to ward off infection since Harry refused to be healed magically (Lisette had assured him that it wouldn't hurt the baby, but he preferred to err on the side of caution).   
  
       He pushed all thoughts of his vision aside and concentrated on the here and now. "Why are you up so early, anyway?"   
  
       "I thought I'd look into that police report that Hermione mentioned - the one involving the old wizard, remember?"   
  
       "Right, the one she thinks is Culpepper. I nearly forgot about that." Harry wanted a confirmation of the wizard's identity as soon as possible - if Culpepper was in trouble, he wanted the Order to do something about it. Letting Culpepper fall into enemy hands would spell disaster for the Mori. Yet ... he didn't want Julian to be gone for long. "When do you think you'll be back?"   
  
       "Later tonight."   
  
       Harry nodded. That meant Julian would probably be back in time for the meeting of the Order. He started to mention the meeting to Julian, but one look at him and he could tell that Julian's mind was no longer on Culpepper or what time he'd be coming home that night. He could hear the softest of whispers in his mind - Julian's projected thoughts - and it sounded like Julian was thinking something along the lines of .... _multiple times ... and multiple positions ... and someone begging for_ \-   
  
       "Julian!"   
  
       Julian blinked and looked at Harry, a sheepish smile curving his lips. "Sorry, just following an earlier train of thought."   
  
       "Uh-huh." Harry narrowed his eyes, studying Julian with renewed interest, almost positive that Julian had been thinking exclusively of Sirius with that 'train of thought.' For some reason, he found Julian's shy apology extremely cute, and a huge grin lit up his face. His vision had to be a dream; from the way Julian acted, he was still in full pursuit of Sirius, and Harry felt immeasurably cheered by it.   
  
       "Hurry back," he said, walking back up the steps to enter the house. "There's going to be a meeting tonight."   
  
       "I'll be there."   
  
       Harry waved goodbye then went inside the house, intending to check in with Sirius after such an intriguing conversation with Julian, but before he could make it two steps from the door he was gently but firmly shoved back against it.   
  
       "You look as if you're in a better mood now," Severus murmured as he leaned in, trapping Harry against the door with his body.   
  
       [Get me out of this coat or you'll be eating your words,] Harry said, torn between pulling Severus closer to appease the flicker of hunger his mate never ceased to rouse in him, or shoving him away so he could get rid of the now-stifling coat, the uncomfortable warmth made worse by Severus's body heat.   
  
       [Just the coat?] Severus asked, one elegant brow raised, all sorts of lewd suggestions locked behind his burning, black gaze. He didn't wait for an answer, expertly unbuttoning Harry's coat with a speed that Harry himself couldn't match, speedily freeing Harry from the confines of the woolen garment.   
  
       "Ohhh yes ... _much_ better," Harry moaned softly in relief once the offending coat had been returned to its hook on the rack.   
  
       A wicked smile curved Severus's lips as he openly enjoyed Harry's breathy response. [Mmm, are you sure you want to stop at just the coat?]   
  
       [Lech.] Harry wrapped his arms around Severus's neck and kissed him, doing his best to make up for the cold way he'd treated him earlier.   
  
       Severus broke the kiss to look down at Harry with the same penetrating stare he'd often employed during Potions classes. "Are you ready to tell me what that dream was all about?"   
  
       Harry knew he'd have to tell Severus about the dream eventually. After what happened to Callie and her family, he knew how important it was to talk about his visions and try to understand them, but right now all he could think about was the savory smell coming from the direction of the kitchen, a sure sign that Lisette had risen early today as well. "Can it wait until after breakfast?"   
  
       Severus narrowed his eyes, as if judging whether Harry was really that hungry or if he was just stalling. He conceded to the request with a sigh, saying, "Go on, then. Get Dorian and that lazy mutt out of bed so we can all have breakfast."   
  
       He stepped to the side to let Harry pass, but Harry hesitated, reluctant to abandon their easy banter and the feelings of normalcy it provided.   
  
       [Or are you just going to follow me around all morning?] Severus threw Harry's own words back at him, no trace of a smile on his lips, but a glint of humor lit up his beetle-black eyes.   
  
       "Touché," Harry muttered, and he dragged himself back up the stairs to wake up Dorian and Sirius.   
  
       He peeked into Dorian's room first to see if he was awake yet. The only things visible beneath the pile of covers were two red-flannel-covered feet sticking out from the top of the blankets where Dorian's head should have been, his pillow kicked to the side and half-hanging off the bed. Toys, left out after some sneaky late-night playing (Harry decided he would have to be a little more strict about bedtime), lay abandoned on the floor along with half-finished drawings and broken crayons, and Harry smiled at how quickly Dorian had settled into his room at Grimmauld Place. He had moved around so much since November, but he seemed to adapt well to the constant upheavals.   
  
       Harry decided to let Dorian sleep a little longer and quietly closed the door, continuing on down the hall to Sirius's room. He rapped his knuckles against the door. "Sirius? Are you awake?"   
  
       He expected more of a sleepy snarl than an actual verbal response to his question, but when he got neither he started to wonder if something was wrong. He knocked again, well aware that the last person to just barge into Sirius's bedroom had been greeted by a drunk, half-naked Sirius having his way with himself (Tonks had told anyone and everyone she could about her traumatic experience), but when he failed to get a response the second time around, Harry figured he'd have to prepare himself for the worst and go on in.   
  
       "Sirius?" He opened the door and looked inside, only to find Sirius's bed made and no sign of his godfather anywhere.   
  
       _Since when has he been an early riser?_ Harry asked himself, but he already knew the answer - _never_. There was only one logical explanation left: Sirius hadn't slept in his own bed last night.   
  
       _Now it all starts to make sense_ , Harry thought, a wide grin spreading over his lips. Julian's strange behavior, those x-rated thoughts Harry overheard - even if his instincts hadn't been on high alert, the evidence only lead to one conclusion in Harry's mind.   
  
       He walked out, closing Sirius's door behind him, then made a beeline straight for Julian's room. If his instincts were right, he wouldn't have to worry about Julian and Sirius anymore - he'd have confirmation of exactly how close they were.   
  
       "Sirius? Are you in there?" He put his hand on the doorknob, so sure of his instincts that he carried on conversationally, acting as if there was no doubt that Sirius was inside Julian's bedroom.   
  
       "Your room was empty, and Julian was acting weird, so I thought ..." He opened the door and stepped inside, but Sirius was nowhere in sight, and he finished flatly, "maybe you were in here."   
  
       The mingling scents that permeated the room were intense - sex and blood and sweat - and the bedsheets were rumpled. One of Sirius's best robes, ripped and ragged, lay in a shameful heap on the floor, and ...  
  
       _There._ A soft dog-like panting was coming from under the bed. The effort it took not to laugh out loud nearly strangled Harry, but he contained his amusement behind a mask of frustration. Sirius obviously didn't want Harry to know he'd spent the night in Julian's room - _and had a **very** good time, from the look of it_ , Harry added silently - and Harry didn't want to be the cause of any embarrassment on Sirius's part. He'd play dumb ... for now.   
  
       He huffed loudly and turned around, muttering under his breath, "I can't even trust my own instincts anymore," before walking out of the room and back towards the stairs. He nearly ran into Severus as he came cheerily down the stairs, laughing as Severus caught him in his arms to save him from a fall.   
  
       "Your good mood is turning obnoxious," Severus accused with a suspicious glare. "Was it that fun, waking up a cranky child? Oh ... and Dorian too, of course."   
  
       Harry let the insult to Sirius slide; asking those two to be nice to each other was like asking Voldemort to kiss a Muggle. "Sirius wasn't in his room, and I let Dorian sleep a little longer. He's upside-down in bed again, by the way."   
  
       Severus's sharp expression softened, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He brushed Harry's hair out of his eyes, clearly conflicted on whether to keep Harry prisoner in his arms or send him on his way, but in the end he pulled away and said evenly, "I'll fetch Dorian. You go on to the kitchen. We'll be down soon."   
  
       _There's that infamous self-control back at work_. Harry stamped down his feelings of disappointment (hadn't he been complaining earlier that Severus never left him alone?) and headed downstairs. He followed the mouthwatering smells of eggs and bacon and toasted bread to the kitchen, finding Lisette alone and hard at work, waving her wand with a precision that reminded Harry distinctly of Hermione. It was obvious to him why those two got along so well – they were so much alike.   
  
       "Good morning, Harry," she sang out, never once pausing in her preparations as she greeted him. "I hope you slept well."   
  
       Harry didn't want to start off the morning by rehashing his nightmares, so he chose to keep the conversation light. "No complaints here."

       Lisette gave him a hard stare while she simultaneously sent two eggs over to the skillet with a flick of her wand, tapping each once to break them, then getting rid of the empty shells with a silent evanesco. When Harry didn't falter beneath her sharp gaze, she gave up her attempt to intimidate him into fessing up and let the comment pass. "Good to hear."   
  
       "Where's Rauko?" Harry asked, snagging a piece of crisp bacon to tide him over until the others showed up.   
  
       "He went to the school to introduce Khiasa to Dumbledore, and to let Hermione and Ron know that he would be shadowing them."   
  
       Harry nodded, pleased that his friends would be looked after while they were at Hogwarts, but he couldn't help but remember how unhappy Julian had been with Rauko's choice. They'd decided at dinner last night that Hermione and Ron required Mori protection after what happened with Harry and Lyr, and Rauko's top suggestion had been a Blackwing named Khiasa. Lisette, who had been shadowed by Khiasa herself for many years, agreed that he made an excellent guardian, but Julian hadn't approved at all.   
  
       "Khiasa is strong," Lisette said, skillfully gleaning Harry's doubts as she prepared him a glass of his new drink of choice: belladonna-spiked tomato juice. "His personality can be .. off-putting ... but I would trust him with my life. Oh! Good morning, Sirius."   
  
       Harry turned around just as Padfoot padded into the kitchen, butting his head against Harry's leg in lieu of a 'good morning,' then curling up on the floor near the stove, dejected. Harry grinned knowingly at him. If Sirius remained as Padfoot, then he wouldn't have to suffer any questions about his 'activities' the night before - it was a brilliant plan, really.   
  
       "Sirius, did you make sure Julian drank that potion last night?" Lisette's expression was stern as she looked down at the dog, her hands on her hips as she assumed the standard 'mother-scolding-her-child' pose.   
  
       He whined and laid his head on his front paws, avoiding Lisette's eyes, his body language confirming what his voice couldn't.   
  
       "Hmm, I didn't think so." Lisette turned back to her cooking, lips twitching, blue eyes bright with mirth.   
  
       "What potion?" Harry asked, curious.   
  
       "A calming draught. Julian is going through his breeding cycle, and that particular potion takes the edge off his ... _appetite_ , so to speak."   
  
       "Let's _not_ speak of it," Severus said as he swept into the kitchen with a drowsy Dorian in his arms.   
  
       Dorian rubbed his fists against his sleepy eyes, still dressed in his red footsie pajamas, his hair a mess of dark curls. Severus went to place him in a chair at the table, but Dorian caught sight of the big, black dog lounging on the floor and roused himself enough to tug at Severus's shirt and mumble tiredly, "I want to play with the doggy."   
  
       Severus grimaced, his pinched expression full of dislike as he glanced at Padfoot. "No, it has rabies."   
  
       Padfoot's head lifted up and he growled menacingly at Severus.   
  
       "You can play with the 'doggy' after breakfast," Harry said, effectively ending the fight before it started, "but only if you eat everything on your plate."   
  
       "Ahh, the fine art of parental negotiation," Lisette said with a smile, handing Harry a stack of plates to be placed on the small kitchen table.   
  
       They settled in for a pleasant breakfast (having a non-speaking Sirius helped, since he and Severus were unable to trade quips back and forth while he was in his current state), everyone avoiding talking about the war or Voldemort or Potions professors who took sadistic pleasure in causing their students pain (present company excluded, of course). Lisette turned out to be a master of small talk, a trait that Harry attributed to her work as a healer where it was essential to keep one's patient calm and communicative, and she even coaxed a smile or two out of Severus. Harry, too busy eating to contribute much to the conversation, finished before anyone else, and as he took his plate to the sink, he heard a tapping against the window and looked up to see Hedwig staring back at him, rendered nearly invisible in the swirling snow that had started falling outside. He opened the window and let her in, getting a face-full of fat snowflakes in the process.   
  
       In her talons, Hedwig carried a small package wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with green twine –   
  
       – and Harry and the package were out of the room and halfway up the stairs before anyone, even Severus, realized he’d gone.   
  
  
  


_____________________________________

  
  
  
  
       Harry opened the package with fingers trembling from excitement, surprised to find a handwritten message of ‘unshrink me’ written on the cardboard box. He complied with a tap of his wand, then opened the double-sized package to find it filled with bundles of black velvet, with an envelope laid neatly on top.   
  
       He picked up the envelope, which had ‘read me in private’ messily scrawled in green ink on the front, and turned it over, only to find a second message on the back that read, ‘are you alone?’ and under that, ‘ _really_ alone?’   
  
       “Yes, really alone,” Harry said with a roll of his eyes. Aiya tended to be paranoid about privacy – not that he could blame her, with a father like Rauko.   
  
       He opened the envelope now that his ‘aloneness’ had been established and peered inside. It looked like Aiya had stuck one of her tarot cards into the envelope, and nothing else.   
  
       _That’s a funny thing to send me,_ Harry thought, but when he reached inside to retrieve it, the instant his fingers touched the card he found himself transported to somewhere else – almost like he’d touched a portkey, only his body hadn’t gone anywhere, just his mind. If he hadn’t known better, he might have guessed he’d just fallen into Dumbledore’s pensieve again, and as his vision cleared and he got over the initial shock of it all, he realized that he wasn’t too far off the mark.   
  
  
       _Aiya was alone on the bed in a shabby hotel room, sitting cross-legged on the garish red floral bedspread as she counted out the small pile of coins and bills in her lap. Something skittered across the floor - a mouse, perhaps - and water dripped from the ceiling into a rusty bucket, but Aiya didn't look concerned with her run-down surroundings.  
  
       "The money's almost gone," she said, looking up, staring straight at Harry as if she could see him. "We'll have to find something permanent so I can get a job. I know, I know - you're probably thinking 'Why can't Draco get a job?' but can you imagine Draco working in the Muggle world? Maybe after a year or so ... after he adjusts to it." A pause. "Okay, maybe a year is being optimistic ..."   
  
       She shoved the money away from her with a sigh. "I told him I wanted some time alone, so he went for a walk, but the truth is I can't stand it when he's gone. The silence is a torture. I can't tell him how absolutely empty I feel - but you understand, right? I cut all my connections ... I cut **our** connection, Little Brother ... and it was like cutting out my heart. I thought it would get better after a while, but - "   
  
       Aiya hugged herself, her arms painfully skinny. It frightened Harry that even being with Draco hadn't fixed Aiya's health problems. Having resolved her bond with Draco, Aiya had still lost countless connections with the Mori, connections that had existed since before she was born ... and she wasn't adapting well to that loss.   
  
       "Ugh, what sort of horrible sister am I to just whine and complain to you like this?" She picked up her worn deck of cards from the nightstand and started shuffling them. "I was going to write you a letter, but letters are so boring, and my handwriting is terrible, so I'm sending you some memories instead. I'm good at imprinting - you know, making a psychic impression on objects that others can experience - and there's a spell you can use to prevent anyone from accessing the memories after you see them. I left instructions for you in the box I'm sending everything in, so you can make sure Rauko doesn't invade our privacy."   
  
       Leave it to Aiya to find some strange new way to communicate with him. Always the path less traveled with her.   
  
       "I've had a bad feeling for the past few days - I hope everything's okay with you." She cut the cards, then fanned them out face-down on the bed. Plucking one from the pile, she studied it, then held it up for Harry to see.   
  
       Black panther.   
  
       "I've been getting the same three cards non-stop for the past few days, and this is always the first one I draw," she said with a smile. "Does this mean what I think it means? I don't have the spirits whispering in my ears anymore, so I'm reading blind right now, but could it be that my old school chum finally gave in and joined the ranks of the Mori? I'm getting some really strong vibes ..."   
  
       She placed the card on the bedspread in front of her then reached for another, her mouth drooping into a frown as she glanced at the picture, then dutifully showed it to Harry.   
  
       "And care to tell me why I keep drawing this hawk?" She pondered the picture of a large, majestic bird, wings spread in flight, talons poised to strike. " **This** is the source of my bad feeling - I just don't know what it means. Let's see ... the hawk is a fierce predator, a sharp-eyed hunter ... but that's not really helpful, I guess. I get the feeling that this card represents someone, but I can't for the life of me figure out who it is, or whether that person is an ally or an enemy."   
  
       She stuck her tongue out at the offending card and tossed it over her shoulder, not even bothering to place it beside the panther card. "Well, no worries. It could just be a sign that I should keep both eyes wide open right now, which fits my situation pretty well - and yours, too, of course."   
  
       She pulled one last card from the long chain spread over the bed, and the corners of her mouth lifted back into a smile. "And yet again, the third card I draw is .... this."   
  
       She held up the card so Harry could see the coiled snake drawn on it. It looked like the snake was sunning itself on a rock, but its small, triangular head was averted, as if it couldn't stand the bright rays of light shining down on it. Harry knew he had seen this snake before ...   
  
       "It isn't a bad card, if that's what you're thinking," Aiya said, treating this card with more reverence than the rest as she gently placed it beside the black panther. "Just because one evil wizard chose a snake as his symbol, it doesn't mean snakes themselves are evil. It's the same with the Darkness, right? Darkness isn't evil ... it's the people who twist the Darkness to hurt others who are the evil ones."   
  
       Harry could sense, even within the memory, that Aiya knew a lot more about the card than she was planning on telling him. If he'd been there in person, he would have tickled her into confessing, but as it was, he could only sit there and wait for her to toss him a few more scraps of information.   
  
       "You haven't been dreaming of Voldemort lately, have you?" Aiya's smile grew bigger and bigger. "This card is why. You have a guardian angel on your shoulder, Harry ... well, maybe not your shoulder ... "   
  
       She laughed, gathering up the rest of her cards and shuffling them again. Harry could feel the memory start to fade, the room growing dimmer, the soft slide of card against card growing fainter.   
  
       "I love you, Little Brother. Stay safe."   
  
       Just before Harry felt the memory slip away completely, he thought he heard Aiya whisper ...   
  
       "I can't wait to meet you, ai'loki." _  
  
  
       Harry blinked. Who was Aiya talking to?   
  
       _Life with Malfoy must've driven her insane_ , he thought, staring at the fire in the hearth as he pondered Aiya's reading and what those cards could mean. The panther was obvious enough, but what about the hawk and the snake? Certainly the snake on that card and the snake he'd seen during his exam with Lisette were tied together, but what did it mean? A guardian angel? Who could be preventing his visions of Voldemort? Another Mori? If that was the case, then why didn't that same person prevent his earlier vision of Lucius?   
  
       "No one just _tells_ me things," he grumbled, annoyed and intrigued all at the same time. He rummaged around in his school bag for the photo of his mother, quickly checking the back to see where Aiya was now. When he ran his finger over the address, it didn't change at all - not even to shimmer in reaction to his touch - but he decided it was just because Aiya was staying in one place for a change, and he soon forgot about it as he eagerly read his sister's location.   
  
       "Stuttgart ... Germany ..." He hadn't checked on her location since before Severus's turning, his mind had been otherwise occupied, so it surprised him to learn that Aiya and Draco had crossed out of France already. He'd have to get out a map and check exactly where Stuttgart was located.   
  
       First, though, he wanted to see what other memories Aiya had sent to him. He hoped the majority of them would explain why they’d left so suddenly. Harry carefully opened the first bundle of velvet, revealing a small glass bottle filled with sand and broken pieces of pink and gray seashells. When he touched his fingers to the bottle, he found himself surrounded by darkness and starlight on some sandy beach, the smells and sounds of the ocean filling his senses.   
  
  
       _"We can't stay in England," Aiya said, running her hands over the sand, then cupping handfuls of it and letting the tiny grains slip through her fingers. "My father will scour the entire country for us."  
  
       Draco stood with his back to her, watching the waves crash on the shore, his blond hair tousled by the ocean breeze. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his trousers cuffed at the ankle, and his feet were bare - far from his usual immaculate appearance.   
  
       "I have some friends in France - friends who won't ask questions," Draco said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Didn't you say once that you love Paris? We could stay there ... for a while, at least."   
  
       Aiya wiped her hands off on her jeans and drew her knees up against her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as she stared at the ground. "Not for long. If he can't find me in England, France would be next on his list. You don't understand how relentless my father can be ..."   
  
       Draco turned, a pained smile twisting his lips. "Don't I?"   
  
       Aiya looked up at him, her troubled indigo eyes warming to a rich plum as she smiled faintly in return.   
  
       "I'm the **only** one who understands," Draco said as he knelt down in the sand in front of her, reaching out to brush a tendril of dark hair from her cheek. Something unspoken passed between them, a shared look that Harry couldn't quite decipher.   
  
       "Yes, we do have that in common." Aiya's smile grew stronger, but there was still a deep sadness in her eyes. "I'm not sure which would be worse - my father finding us, or yours."   
  
       "We'll just have to stay two steps ahead of both of them."   
  
       "France it is, then, but we can't risk anyone knowing we're there - the fewer people we involve, the better."_   
  
  
       The memory ended abruptly, and Harry used the spell Aiya had sent him (cleverly written on the otherwise blank tarot card she’d sent him) to quickly seal the memory back into the bottle. He started to reach for another black-velvet bundle but the creak of the door opening warned him that someone was coming in (he guessed it was Rauko since the person didn't bother to knock), and he stuffed everything back into the box, shrank it, and shoved it into his schoolbag.   
  
       "Oi, Harry, why is Sirius running around on all fours today?”   
  
       Ron peered down at Harry with a grin on his freckled face, while Hermione, who had paused at the threshold to give a belated knock, drifted into the room carrying her schoolbag and an overnight bag.   
  
       “What are you two doing here so early?” Harry deftly avoided answering Ron’s question by asking one of his own, not sure how much he should divulge concerning Sirius and Julian. “I didn’t think you’d come until tonight.”   
  
       “Dumbledore sent us on ahead,” Hermione explained as she put down her heavy bags to give her arms a rest. “He acted nervous about something, though I’m not sure what. We apparated from outside of Hogsmeade, and Khiasa followed through the void.”   
  
       “That bloke is some piece of work, Harry,” Ron said, the color rising in his cheeks. “He treats Hermione like a princess, but me he mostly ignores, and when he does talk to me he just calls me ‘pureblood’ like it’s my name or something.”   
  
       Harry raised a brow, looking to Hermione for confirmation, and she shrugged and gave a weak smile.   
  
       “Supposedly, he’s pretty old,” she said, “so I’m sure he has his prejudices against purebloods, just like Rauko does. I’ve told Ron that I don’t think he’s being mean on purpose, but …”   
  
       “If he doesn’t want to come off as a wanker, he should bloody well call me by my bloody name,” Ron said, temper flaring.   
  
       Harry decided to change the subject before Ron exploded, and bringing up Aiya was sure to interest both of them.   
  
       “You’ll never guess what Hedwig brought me today …”   
  
  
  


_____________________________________

  
  
  
  
       Much later, after long talks, a cheery supper and further evasions by Harry to get out of telling Severus about his vision, he spent his last hour of free time before the meeting in Dorian’s room, tucking him into bed and reading him a story that Dorian apparently translated into Elvish for the baby, as he kept bending down and whispering in that musical language to Harry’s belly. Once Dorian finally succumbed to sleep, Harry stole out of the room and started for the stairs, only to run into a tall morion with long, dark hair, jet-black eyes and bronze skin, standing silently outside of the room given to Hermione.   
  
       _That must be Khiasa_ , Harry thought, wondering why he hadn't been at supper. He nodded hello, confused by the deep bow that Khiasa gave him in return. _A bit on the formal side, isn’t he?_   
  
       He imagined that Khiasa would have fit in well with the ancient Egyptians, a perfect likeness of some hieroglyphic pharaoh – and just about as expressive. If Harry had thought Severus could be stone-faced, that was nothing compared to the blank, unreadable expression of Hermione and Ron’s shadow.   
  
       He hurried downstairs, abandoning any plans of attempting small talk with Khiasa. When he was a few feet from the meeting room, he heard Lisette’s voice coming from a room two doors down – Sirius’s favorite sitting room, the one he always opened up when Harry was staying with him. He caught the last of Lisette's conversation as he drew closer.   
  
       "It means 'beloved'." A long pause. "Oh, my ... I don't think you want me to translate _that_. Best to ask Julian yourself when he comes back. I just ... well ... that's a private matter between mates. Yes, _mates_ , Sirius. I explained this already. And if you want to keep people from finding out, especially Rauko or any other Mori, you'd better go back to being Padfoot for the time being."  
  
       Lisette stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her, looking a little frazzled but with a smile playing about her lips. Her smile brightened when she saw Harry.   
  
       "Is it time for the meeting, Harry?" She started walking towards the large room where the last Order meeting had been held, fully furnished with the same cozy armchairs and settees as before.   
  
       Harry touched Lisette's arm as she passed him, drawing her aside and leaning in to whisper, "Did I hear you say 'mates'?"   
  
       She grinned and placed a finger against her lips. [Shhh. It's a secret.]   
  
       [I can't believe Sirius accepted it that easily ...] Harry trailed off when Lisette started laughing. [What? What did I say?]   
  
       She hooked arms with him as they walked towards the meeting room. [Sirius didn't even know. Julian 'claimed' him like any impulsive, instinct-driven Shadowclaw, but then he left Sirius alone this morning without explaining anything.]   
  
       [So Sirius never actually agreed to - ]   
  
       [No.]   
  
       [But now he and Julian are - ]   
  
       [Yes.] Lisette chuckled. [Sirius can refuse the bond, of course, but Julian is stuck. He has made his choice. And ... I think Sirius has, as well. He just doesn't have Mori instincts to help him along to that realization.]   
  
       Harry nodded; he could tell Sirius liked Julian, even though Sirius fought tooth and nail to deny it.   
  
       [Rauko doesn't know yet,] Lisette added, winking at Harry. [As long as Sirius keeps to his animagus form, Rauko shouldn't be able to detect Julian's scent on him.]   
  
       [You don't think Rauko would ... _do_ anything to Sirius, do you?]   
  
       Lisette stopped Harry just outside the room, turning to him with a docile smile, her gaze warm and confident as she looked into Harry's eyes. [I promise you, nothing bad will happen to Sirius because of Rauko. The situation is complicated, and yes, Rauko has a deep-rooted dislike of purebloods ... ]   
  
       _.. and he's a sadist on the battlefield, and he tends to disembowel first, ask questions later, and ..._  
  
       Harry recognized that low, rich voice in his head as being the same spirit who warned him about the pyracantha berries and also helped to calm him while he was alone with Professor Lyr. He smiled at the lazy, laconic way the spirit rattled off Rauko's lesser qualities, not treating Rauko with the same reverence that most other Mori reserved for their leader.   
  
       [I take it this spirit isn't a fan,] Harry said, startling Lisette with his off-hand remark.   
  
       "You heard that?" she asked, surprised into speaking out loud.   
  
       "Sure," he said, squinting down at her curiously. "Why?"   
  
       Lisette bit at her lower lip, her bright sapphire eyes making the slow, subtle transition to a darker, midnight blue, but she seemed more intrigued than disappointed as she said, "That spirit is named Vala, and he rarely talks to anyone."   
  
       _There are so few people worth talking to these days_ , came the smoky voice again as Vala defended himself to Harry. _Sweet Lisette ... your Severus ... and you, Harry. This is conversation enough for me._   
  
       "What about Rauko?"   
  
       _Words are useless with that one ..._  
  
       Lisette smiled at the cutting remark that Vala pressed into both their minds, shaking her head and taking up the task of interpreter as she explained silently to Harry, [Those two are bound so closely that words are unnecessary. It is the same for you and Severus, yes?]   
  
       He was prevented from answering her by the blur of black fur that bounded between them and into the meeting room. A feminine shout of delight followed shortly after, then a sharp command from Severus to ' _stop hitting me with your blasted tail, Black_ ,' and Harry rolled his eyes. The meeting hadn't even started yet and already those two were fighting.   
  
       "It should be an interesting night," Lisette said, smiling, as she walked into the room ahead of Harry.   
  
       _That's not the adjective I'd use_. Harry trailed behind her, oh-so-close to slipping back into his glum attitude from that morning, but then the same female voice that greeted Padfoot with such enthusiasm was calling his name, and he saw Tonks walking towards him, a huge smile on her face.   
  
       "Good to see you, Tonks!" He hugged her, his nose tickled by the sweet scent of her perfume, but as he started to pull away he detected a magical scent beneath the perfume, a natural odor that triggered his memory and had him burying his face against her neck, sniffing like a bloodhound.   
  
       "Umm ... Harry?" Tonks let her hands drop to her side as Harry continued to smell her; when he didn't respond or move away, she looked to the others for help. "Could someone tell me what's going on? Do I really smell that good? I mean, I know Remus likes this perfume, but he always says I use way too much ..."   
  
       She trailed off as she realized Severus was glaring at her with nothing less than murder on his mind. She swallowed hard and started pushing at Harry's shoulders, squeaking out a high-pitched, "Come on, Harry, this isn't funny anymore."   
  
       "Lyr," Harry said, finally pulling away with a sort of grim triumph in his jade-green eyes.   
  
       Severus relaxed his white-knuckled grip on the book in his lap, clearing his throat as he wiped that wild-eyed, possessive look from his face and asked calmly, "What about Lyr?"   
  
       "He and Tonks have the same smell. Well, not exactly the same," he amended his statement at the offended expression on Tonks's face, "but they're alike in one important way. I think Lyr is a metamorphmagus."   
  
       "You can know that just from smelling someone?" Tonks asked.   
  
       "A Mori can," Lisette said, smiling at Harry. "So if Lyr is a metamorphmagus, then he probably isn't who he says he is."   
  
       "Not only that, but I think whoever is impersonating Lyr is the same person who helped in the attack on the Lennox house," Harry said, and he described the scent of the magic that scarred the walls in Dorian's room, and how he'd picked up that same scent on Lyr during their after-class discussion.   
  
       "Maybe he's the same person who attacked Snape," Tonks offered.   
  
       "There is a ... _familiarity_ to him, I will admit," Severus drawled, turning back to his book and thumbing through its pages.   
  
       More people started to filter into the room - Hermione and Ron, followed closely by the close-faced Khiasa, then Rauko, but still no sign of any other Order members, including Dumbledore.   
  
       "Everyone knew about the meeting, right?" Harry was worried that the short notice was going to affect attendance, but Tonks looked just as confused by the lack of attendees as Harry.   
  
       "From what I heard, the entire Order is supposed to be here tonight," she said.   
  
       "So where are they?"   
  
       "Maybe they heard Rauko was going to be here. That would certainly make _me_ think twice about showing up."   
  
       All eyes turned towards the doorway as Julian announced his presence with troubled eyes and a tired smile.   
  
       "It's about time - " Harry started to say, but he was cut short by the furious barking of Padfoot as the large black dog shot out from his place at Harry's feet and charged the doorway, pouncing on Julian and knocking him to the floor. He stayed on top of Julian's chest the entire time, barking and growling at him, his bared canines snapping dangerously close to Julian's throat, until even Harry found himself concerned for Julian's well-being. He felt Severus tense up beside him, and he grabbed his wrist just in case Severus started feeling homicidal.   
  
       Khiasa growled and moved to push Padfoot off of Julian, but Rauko held him back, much to Harry's surprise and relief. Was Rauko actually coming to terms with the idea of Julian and Sirius as a couple?   
  
       Padfoot ended his tirade by biting Julian's shoulder, then he dashed out of the room, leaving a stunned and visibly chastened Julian laying on the floor with a few tears in his shirt, pinpricks of red bleeding through the starched, white material around the area where he'd been bitten.   
  
       "I deserved that," Julian wheezed, clutching at his shoulder as Ron helped him up.   
  
       "What could you possibly have done to make him that mad?" Ron asked, incredulous, but a sharp elbow to the ribs from his girlfriend silenced him on the subject.   
  
       "He'll come back once he cools down," Harry said, eager to smooth everything over. The fewer questions asked about Sirius's behavior, the longer they could keep Rauko in the dark about the whole 'mates' thing.   
  
       "It is a dog. Why must it be at this meeting?" Khiasa asked in a thick accent, reaching out to help Julian to the chair nearest his own, but Julian shook him off and hobbled over to where Severus sat, sinking gratefully into the empty seat directly to the left of his brother.   
  
       "Nothing is at it appears to be in this place," Rauko said, steering Khiasa over to where Hermione and Ron were now sitting.   
  
       Tonks fidgeted in her seat, her lively gaze darting from one face to another, reacting to the tension in the room by asking babbling questions, "Where is everyone? Shouldn't Dumbledore be here by now? And what about Kingsley and Moody? And what about - "   
  
       "Yes, you've made your point," Severus interjected.   
  
       They all sat in silence for a few minutes more, then Julian broke the ice with a silky, "So, beautiful weather we're having, eh?"   
  
       "It's a blizzard out there!" Ron said.   
  
       "Hardly, Ron, and Julian only thinks it's nice because it meant no sunshine today," Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "What we think of bad weather is actually good weather for the Mori."   
  
       "This is true," Khiasa said, dragging his jet-black gaze from Julian to stare at Ron. "You should broaden your horizons, pureblood."   
  
       Having Ron tell him of Khiasa's peculiar habit was one thing, but actually hearing his best friend reduced to his blood purity really pissed Harry off - the same could be said of whenever he heard anyone refer to Hermione as 'mudbood' - and he was halfway out of his seat before Severus pulled him back onto his lap, securing him there as he whispered into Harry's mind, [Calm down. He doesn't mean it maliciously, Harry.]   
  
       "For his sake, I hope not," Harry growled, then he realized he was the focus of the entire room and, blushing from head to toe, he squirmed out of Severus's lap and sat down in his own chair again.   
  
       A look passed between Rauko and Khiasa, and the latter stood quickly, folding his hands over his heart and giving a short bow, the same gesture that Dorian made when thanking someone or apologizing for something.   
  
       [Forgive me,] he pressed the words into Harry's mind, showing respect for Harry's barriers with how lightly his words touched Harry's thoughts. [I meant no harm. I will be more careful in how I address your friend.]   
  
       Harry just nodded in reply, not sure how to respond. Khiasa sat back down, and the room grew oppressively silent once more.   
  
       "Awk-ward," Julian said in a sing-song voice, then he leaned over to Severus and said in a stage whisper, "Listen, can one of you wand-wavers do something about the bloodstains in my shirt? I mean, I really like this shirt. It brings out my eyes. Makes me look - dare I say it? - quite sexy."   
  
       "The blood loss has obviously rendered you delusional," Severus snarked back, but now that the tension was broken again, everyone started chatting amongst themselves in low voices, some catching up on old times, others forming new friendships.   
  
       "So, Harry," Julian said, practically pushing Severus out of the way as he leaned over to talk to him, "did you talk to Severus about your dream?"   
  
       "How did you know I had a - " Harry trailed off and glared at Severus. He really didn't want to alarm everyone by letting them know he'd had another of his visions, and the fact that Julian had been a huge part of said vision made things that much worse.   
  
       "How unfortunate that Black didn't finish you off," Severus snapped at Julian as he shoved him away, annoyed that Julian had butted in.  
  
       The brotherly spat was interrupted when the door to the meeting room swung open and Dumbledore walked in, his gait painfully slow, as if the weight of the world rested on his aged shoulders - and it probably did, Harry realized. The creased, wrinkled face of the headmaster carried new lines of worry and regret, and his eyes were vacant of their usual twinkle, like two blue glass marbles, empty of any light or fire.   
  
       "Headmaster, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, clearly unsettled by this less-than-confident version of their longtime leader.   
  
       Dumbledore surveyed the room, pausing when his gaze fell on Harry, and he solemnly announced:   
  
       "Xander Lyr is gone from Hogwarts, and it appears he took Rhys Wynford with him."   


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **ai’loki** \- means “little snake” in Elvish  
>  **Khiasa** \- this name is Elvish, it means “nomadic” or “nomad”  
>  **Vala** \- this name is Elvish, it means “archangel”


	48. The Culpepper Connection

 

       "Xander Lyr is gone from Hogwarts, and it appears he took Rhys Wynford with him."   
  
       Everyone stared at Dumbledore, some in surprise, some in confusion, but it was Harry who finally broke the stunned silence.   
  
       "Wait ... what?"   
  
       "Eloquent as always, Potter," Severus drawled.  
  
       "Professor Lyr never arrived to his first class this morning, and Mr. Wynford's friends realized he was missing at nearly the same time," Dumbledore informed them all in a voice that attempted to sound calm but came out weary. He sank down into the chair nearest the door, his old bones creaking in protest. "A thorough search of the castle and the grounds was conducted, but there was no sign of either of them. Somehow, the Ministry was notified before I could even contact Rhys's mother, and several high-ranking Aurors have been assigned to investigate, including our Mr. Shacklebolt."  
  
       "Well, that's ..." Harry started to respond, then stopped, puzzled by the news but not entirely surprised. It confirmed his suspicions about Lyr but it didn't seem as bad as Dumbledore made it sound. "... that's good, isn't it? Not about Rhys, of course, but that Lyr isn't at Hogwarts anymore."  
  
       "I suppose that is one way of looking at it." Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, then fixed his dull, blue stare on Harry once more. "Professor Lyr disappeared, Harry, but so did you, and no one has forgotten that the last time you were absent from the halls of Hogwarts, it so happened that one professor 'died,' another defected to the Dark Lord, and a Slytherin student known to be your enemy vanished without a trace. Within our circle, we recognize Professor Lyr's disappearance as a voluntary act - though I am not convinced Mr. Wynford left of his own free will - but powerful wizards have been whispering into the ears of the Ministry, weaving tales of the Boy-Who-Would-Rule, swaying weaker minds with the weapons of fear and hate. Now they are naming Lyr as your latest victim, and the Ministry believes them, Harry. When I could not produce you this afternoon at the Minister's request, it only seemed to solidify your guilt in their minds. Several Ministry officials are calling for your arrest."  
  
       "But those are just rumors!" Hermione jumped to the defense of her friend first, beating out the others in the room who were rendered speechless by the news. "There's no evidence that Harry has done anything. How can they arrest him based on hearsay?"   
  
       "They cannot," Dumbledore replied, his gaze warming as it fell on Hermione, "but they can question him, and I do not believe Harry's current condition would lend itself well to an interrogation."  
  
       "No, certainly not," Lisette agreed.   
  
       "Perhaps we should take this as a sign," Rauko said, leaning away from Khiasa after the two engaged in a brief, silent exchange. "It was already decided that Harry would not return to the school, and for a Mori to live among wizards is ludicrous. He can now break all ties to the wizarding world and join his people in the Underground."  
  
       "He is _not_ going to the Underground," Lisette quietly reminded her husband between clenched teeth, her accent thickening to a heavy Scottish brogue, but Rauko chose to ignore that subtle indication that Lisette's temper was being tested.  
  
       "What would you have him do then, Lisette? Live here the rest of his life, just like his godfather? Like an animal trapped in a cage?"  
  
       Julian growled low in his throat, but the argument between husband and wife raged on.  
  
       "The Underground is as much a prison as this house. The Mori cannot stay there forever, hiding like frightened children. What if this is a sign that things must change? No more running, no more abandoning our homes ... this is our world too! You fought against oppression and injustice once, why not now? There is good to be found in the wizarding world - why not defend it?"  
  
       "We killed our own kind to be free of the wizarding world," Rauko said softly, icily, his eyes darkening to deep indigo. "Why would we wish to go back?"  
  
       _He always has the same excuse_ , Vala whispered into Harry's mind. _He cannot forgive himself for what he did - and he cannot forgive the wizards who forced that choice upon him_.   
  
       _What did he do?_ Harry asked, but Vala didn't answer him, and Harry returned his attention to the heated discussion just in time to see Lisette pop up from her seat, glaring openly at Rauko. Harry could feel the slight change in her magic, her presence looming large despite her petite frame as she engaged in silent battle with her husband, and then she was turning to Dumbledore, her voice soft, sweet and resolute as she addressed him directly.  
  
       "Several years ago, I watched while people I once loved were hunted and killed by Voldemort, but I did nothing to stop it. This time, I wish to be a part of the war effort, even if my husband refuses. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help." She ran a hand over her brown curls, smoothing every strand back into place, her expression so calm and demure that Harry found it hard to believe she'd ever raised her voice at all. "If you will excuse me, I think I will go check on Sirius."  
  
       [Don't let any of them bully you while I'm gone,] she told Harry as she left the room. [Especially Rauko.]  
  
       "Maybe I should check on Sirius, too," Julian said, starting to rise from his seat, but Severus grabbed his shoulder to stop him, and Julian slumped back down in his seat with a wounded pout.  
  
       Khiasa tilted his head to one side, his dark eyes reflecting the firelight that lit the room. "Who is Sirius?"  
  
       "The dog," Rauko answered in a sulky tone, still smarting from Lisette's well-aimed barbs, both spoken and silent.  
  
       "The black one with the shaggy coat? Its scent was ... unusual. Is it ill?"  
  
       " _Mentally_ ," Severus muttered under his breath, flashing an unapologetic smirk at Julian when his brother glared at him, though he quickly erased all traces of smug humor from his face when Harry looked his way.  
  
       Hermione sighed impatiently and tried to bring the discussion back to more serious matters. "I can understand why Kingsley isn't here, and possibly some of the other Aurors, but why aren't Mr. and Mrs. Weasley here? Or Fred and George?"  
  
       "I told them not to come," said Dumbledore. "Anyone remotely connected to Harry is now under surveillance from the Ministry. The Weasley family is, unquestionably, at the top of that list. Also, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will not be returning to Hogwarts. Mr. Shacklebolt warned me that they would be forced to detain you both for questioning, which is why I sent you off earlier than expected. I am afraid a true meeting of the Order will have to wait for Christmas, when we can gather under the guise of celebration."  
  
       _This Lyr is clever_ , Vala said. _He will make a villain of you yet, Harry, and your friends by association. You can't threaten his schemes if you're hiding from the very people you're trying to save._   
  
       "And you, Albus?" Severus narrowed his obsidian eyes as he stared thoughtfully at Dumbledore. "How has this turn of events affected you? What is it you don't want to tell us?"  
  
       Dumbledore held Severus's gaze, a small smile banishing the stormclouds from his expression, no doubt amused by Severus's uncanny ability to strike at the heart of a matter. "My situation is no different. I am being watched, yes, but I have always had my share of detractors. I believe the Ministry is convinced that my age has finally caught up with me, since they are so certain that I have been 'manipulated' by my own student, and as such I have not taken the full brunt of the blame for what has occurred at Hogwarts."  
  
       "No one with half a brain would believe you were addled, Albus. More likely they'd think you were just as dangerous as Harry than come to the conclusion that you're a harmless old man. No, whoever is pulling the Ministry's strings - Lyr, Lucius, some unknown threat - _he_ is the one downplaying your involvement. But you've already guessed as much, haven't you? He wants you to keep your positions of power, both at Hogwarts and in the Wizengamot ... but why? What could he possibly gain?"  
  
       "The Headmaster is too well respected to have his reputation destroyed because of one renegade student," Hermione said, "and even when the Ministry tried to get rid of him, he always had loads of loyal supporters. It would take something truly shocking to shake everyone's faith in him. Maybe Lyr knows that, and he doesn't think it's worth the trouble to go after the Headmaster."  
  
       "No, he's just waiting for the right moment."   
  
       All eyes turned to Harry.  
  
       "You're right, Hermione. People trust Dumbledore, so all those attempts to get him permanently removed from Hogwarts failed, but what if they didn't trust him anymore?"  
  
       Tonks scoffed at that. "But it's _Dumbledore_ , Harry. What could possibly make them distrust him?"  
  
       "How about the fact that he's been consorting with dark creatures? Or the small matter of allying himself with a race of magical beings so hated and feared that the Ministry hunted them into extinction? How would the wizarding world react if they knew about the Mori?"  
  
       Dumbledore sighed. "I am not ashamed of the choices I have made ... but Harry is right. It would cause no end of problems if it were known that I befriended the Mori, especially after this business with Miss Graham and Professor Lyr. It would be a slight setback ..."  
  
       "Slight? The wizarding world would turn on you in an instant." The stress of these revelations and a missed 'feeding' were draining Severus's dimming at an alarming rate, and as his looks grew younger and sharper, the room grew colder and darker, shadows abandoning their cozy corners and nooks to gather at his feet. "In the resulting chaos, even Voldemort would seem the lesser of two evils."  
  
       Tonks flinched at the name, as did Ron, but Harry realized that Severus hadn't balked one bit at saying Voldemort's name.  
  
       "Then it is just as well that we don't plan on revealing ourselves," Rauko said quietly, a strange gleam in his eyes as he looked at Severus. "If we lay low and bide our time, this will all blow over."  
  
       "Just stick your head in the sand like a good boy," Julian added bitterly. "I, for one, agree with what Lisette said. I'm sick of hiding, and I think it's wrong to assume that the entire wizarding world would reject us."  
  
       "I think your misguided trust in the wizarding world has done enough damage to our people," Rauko snapped, but whatever tirade he was about to launch into was interrupted by Khiasa.  
  
       "Julian may be right. I would much prefer that our people remained secret and safe, but I believe those days are coming to an end. If we reveal ourselves to the wizarding world on our own terms, we might be able to make peace. However, if our secret is revealed by our enemies, it could have serious repercussions."  
  
       Harry's grudge against Khiasa softened a bit, while Rauko had an ' _Et tu, Khiasa?_ ' expression on his face.  
  
       "Worrying about the future is a waste of time," Severus said. "We can decide later how we want to proceed with revealing or not revealing the Mori to the wizarding world. For now, we should focus on Lyr. Is he a Death Eater? Or does he have his own motives for what he's doing?"  
  
       "And what about Rhys?" Hermione spoke up. "It can't be a coincidence that he's the one Professor Lyr took with him."  
  
       Ron nodded. "He knew Lyr from somewhere - we saw them talking in the hallway on the day of Harry's exam."  
  
       "Well, the question is, did he know the _real_ Lyr? Or did he know the man beneath the disguise?" Harry idly stroked his thumb against Severus's wrist, able to think much more clearly while touching his mate. "I can't picture Rhys as being part of some Death Eater's scheme or helping anyone dangerous infiltrate the school, so it seems more likely that he thought he was dealing with the real Lyr."  
  
       [This is a boy who would have raped you given half the chance,] Severus's voice bit into Harry's mind like the coldest winter wind. [How can you believe him to be harmless?]  
  
       [We don't know that he would have raped me,] Harry protested, turning to Dumbledore for support, "You said yourself that you didn't think Rhys went willingly. There has to be some reason Lyr would need Rhys. He wouldn't need a hostage if he was trying to make his own disappearance look like foul play, so Rhys must be important to his plan in some way."  
  
       "I might know of a reason," Julian said. "I looked into that police report, Harry, and it appears that Hermione was right - it was Culpepper they found."  
  
       Hermione looked torn between triumph and tears. "Was he hurt?"  
  
       "He was - " Julian's voice cracked, his eyes darkening to a chocolate brown, but then he pulled himself together and stated evenly, "He was unresponsive to his doctors, but they couldn't find anything physically wrong with him. Whoever attacked him made sure he couldn't talk to anyone if he was found, but I ... I'm confident that his condition will turn out to be temporary. He wouldn't be much use to anyone if he was catatonic, after all."   
  
       "What does this have to do with Wynford?" Severus asked.   
  
       Julian pulled out a small, worn notebook from his jacket pocket, flipping it open. He read his hastily scribbled notes out loud to the room, "Three nights ago, a Mrs. Julia Wynford arrived at the hospital where the patient was being treated and identified him as one Nathaniel Culpepper, her father."

       Hermione squeaked in surprise.   
  
       Julian kept reading. "When questioned, Mrs. Wynford admitted that her father's mental health had deteriorated in the past few months, and she had taken to caring for him at the family estate in Surrey."  
  
       He closed the notebook with a flick of his wrist, then tucked it back into his pocket. "I have a feeling she used magic to muddle the minds of the doctors and the constable who took her statement. There was an astonishing lack of information about her, and they let her walk right out of the hospital with him without further testing or anything. I plan on running a background check on her, but I thought maybe you would have some information already, Dumbledore."  
  
       Dumbledore nodded. "Julia Wynford is Rhys's mother. I seem to recall his father was killed by Death Eaters, and Julia became something of a recluse after that. She did not attend Hogwarts - she was a beautiful but sickly child, and her mother refused to part with her - but I do believe her maiden name was Culpepper. Does this mean something to the rest of you?"  
  
       "Not to me," Tonks said with a puzzled frown.   
  
       "From what Harry has told me, Culpepper is an authority on the Mori," Severus explained for Dumbledore's benefit. "If Lyr took Rhys - and I'm still not convinced the boy was forced - then he might have intended to use Rhys to _motivate_ his grandfather into cooperating."  
  
       "Everyone and everything is connected," Harry murmured, more to himself than to the others, but as he said it he caught Rauko's eye, and he knew that his adopted father was also thinking back to their conversation at supper the night before, when Rauko had explained to him that coincidence didn't exist. He was starting to see those invisible threads that connected them all together, Muggles and wizards and Mori alike, and he wondered how many new threads he would discover in the future.  
  
       "Shouldn't we try and convince Mrs. Wynford to let us protect her father?" Hermione fiddled with the golden key on her necklace. "If he's with family right now, that means Voldemort _doesn't_ have him. Can't the Ministry assign him some protection?"   
  
       "They'd want a reason why they're protecting him," Ron said, "which means we'd have to tell them about the Mori, wouldn't we?"   
  
       Rauko shook his head. "Unacceptable."   
  
       "Say _I'm_ after him and they'll guard him round the clock," Harry said with more humor than he felt. "Might as well use my bad reputation for a good cause."   
  
       Julian gave a half-hearted chuckle, but everyone else found it too hard to laugh at Harry's joke.   
  
       "This has been a day of revelations that baffles even my old brain," Dumbledore said, slowly rising to his feet. "I will look into these matters as best I can, but I am afraid I must depend on the rest of you - especially you, Julian, as you seem most qualified - to investigate where you can. I fear I have been gone too long from Hogwarts already, and my first priority must be the safety of the students. I shudder to imagine what manner of replacement the Ministry would choose for me, should it come to that, since it appears the Ministry itself is being taken over from within."   
  
       The meeting broke up soon after Dumbledore said his farewells, and Tonks followed him out on her own way home, but everyone else would be staying at Grimmauld Place for the night (if not longer), so while rooming arrangements and wake-up calls were sorted out, Harry huddled with Ron and Hermione on a sofa far from the quiet chatter of their elders.   
  
       "We need to go to Gringotts and see what's in that vault," Hermione whispered, nervously toying with the golden key she wore. "If we know everything that Culpepper knows, then we'll know what the enemy could use against us if they capture him."   
  
       Harry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "And just how am I supposed to convince Severus to let me out of the house now that I've become public enemy number one?"   
  
       "Scream, cry, beg, shag him until he's too weak to say no - I don't _care_ how you do it."

        Ron's eyes narrowed as he gave his girlfriend a suspicious glance. "Is that why you're always asking me to help you study after we - "   
  
       "Bravo, Ron, you've found me out," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes before she fixed her shrewd brown gaze back on Harry's face. "Just find a way, Harry. He can shadow you now, so it's not as if you'll be unprotected. And I'll have Khiasa ..."   
  
       "Ugh, mind if I sit this one out?" Ron asked with a glare across the room at the tall and imposing figure of Khiasa.   
  
       "Who else is going to help me carry all that research material?"   
  
       "Julian could come too," Harry said hesitantly, an odd feeling of excitement stirring in his chest. He wasn't used to 'playing it safe' all the time, and this sounded like an adventure that even Severus wouldn't mind - minimal risk, maximum rewards - and he shrugged off what few misgivings he had and nodded his agreement. "Let's do it, then. But ... I'll have to disguise myself somehow."   
  
       "Polyjuice?" Ron suggested.   
  
       "No, nothing magical," Harry said. "I don't know how it would affect the baby, and I'm not taking chances. Glamours are out, too."   
  
       Hermione bit at her thumbnail, deep in thought, studying Harry's face as if it were her own personal canvas, then she smiled and stood up.   
  
       "Just leave it to me, Harry," she said, reaching for Ron and hauling him to his feet as well. "I'll make it so no one - well, except for a Mori, since they do that whole 'scent' thing - will ever recognize you."   
  
       _I have a bad feeling about this_ , Harry thought, deeply disturbed by the eager, almost maniacal grin that graced his friend's face, but Hermione led Ron away before Harry could voice his concerns, both of them calling out their goodnights before heading off to their rooms.   
  
       "I get the most curious sensation in my gut whenever I see you three with your heads together, whispering like that," Severus said, bending down over the back of the sofa to murmur in Harry's ear. "I believe it is something along the lines of 'utmost dread'. Why do you think that is?"  
  
       "I haven't the slightest idea," he answered innocently enough, reaching back to curl his arm around Severus's neck and draw him down for a gentle kiss. The gears in Harry's mind were already busily turning, churning out idea after idea of how he'd persuade Severus to allow the excursion to Gringotts, but he'd need to keep Severus off-balance if he wanted to buy himself some time to come up with the perfect approach. Following up the soft, sweet kiss with a teasing lick at the corner of Severus's mouth, Harry grinned up at his mate.   
  
       "How about now? Sensing anything different?"   
  
       Severus couldn't get him out of the room fast enough. 

 


	49. Behind Closed Doors

 

       Julian climbed the stairs slowly, dreading the confrontation to come, convinced that Sirius's angry greeting downstairs meant Julian was about to get rejected.   
  
       _Maybe skipping out on him without even a goodbye wasn't the smartest course of action_ , he thought to himself as he reached the second-floor landing and walked the few steps to his room, ashamed of his own actions and how cowardly they made him look. _I can track down murderers and thieves and put myself into every kind of dangerous situation there is, but I can't find the courage to face my lover the morning after our first night together?_  
  
       He opened his door with a heavy sigh, then froze in the doorway at the sight of Sirius - human again - perched on the edge of his bed, scowling.   
  
       "What took you so long?"   
  
       Julian didn't answer. He quietly stepped inside the room and closed the door, scarcely daring to breathe in case this was all some elaborate delusion (had he lost more blood than he thought?).   
  
       Sirius stood up, edging away from the bed, visibly unnerved by Julian’s silence. “I only ask because I heard Harry and Snape walk past almost twenty minutes ago.”   
  
       “They were in a hurry to get upstairs,” Julian said, adding silently, _and I would have been, too, if I’d known what was waiting for me._   
  
       Sirius’s face scrunched up in disgust. “You mean they’re – ”   
  
       “ – having a bit of fun? Yes, most likely.” Julian grinned for the first time since entering the room, that bright, beaming smile the only expression that looked completely natural on his face. Frowns always seemed like a wrong fit for such a genuinely lighthearted soul. “That’s what mates do, or so I’ve been told.”   
  
       A muscle twitched in Sirius’s cheek at the word ‘mates’ and Julian’s grin went back into hiding.   
  
       “Yes, Lisette told me about mates earlier. Like how some Mori mark their mates so no one else will go sniffing around them. Does that sound familiar?” Sirius spoke in a soft voice edged with anger. Julian noticed that half-hidden by Sirius’s shirt collar was a fresh, white bandage, no doubt applied by Lisette, though he couldn’t decide if it was to keep out infection or to hide the mark from others in the house that might react badly to it.   
  
       “Sirius, I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step forward only to quickly retreat when he saw the way Sirius flinched. “Look, I was half out of my mind last night. That’s why I kept telling you to go away. I know it’s a poor excuse, but I never would have forced that mark on you if I hadn’t been going through my breeding cycle. You don’t understand how hard it is for a Mori to control his instincts while he’s in heat.”   
  
       “I think I have a pretty good idea,” Sirius said, less sullen than before but still looking mighty nervous to be alone in the room with Julian. He brushed his hand over the bandage absently, shivering at even that light touch, and Julian felt his body respond with a suddenness that had him turning his back on Sirius to hide the instant erection in his trousers.   
  
       _No biting, no biting, no biting,_ Julian told himself repeatedly; if Sirius was that sensitive to his mark, then it meant Julian’s chances with him were looking up – _way_ up – but he couldn’t afford to indulge his instincts, especially the ones that were telling him to sink his teeth into that mark and see if he could make Sirius do more than just shiver.   
  
       “Julian?” Sirius, unaware of Julian’s inner struggle, forgot to be cautious and started to walk towards him, but a knock at the door saved Julian from what could have been a disastrous setback.   
  
       Julian heard Sirius swear violently under his breath, and he suddenly realized what he intended to do. He turned around, hoping to stop him. "You don't have to - "  
  
       But Sirius had already disappeared under the bed in a flash of dark fur, leaving Julian to face his visitor alone.   
  
       "Do what you want, then." Julian walked over to the door and flung it open, his frustrated frown dissolving into an uneasy half-smile as he greeted his guest.   
  
       "Khiasa." The last person Julian wanted to see. "What can I do for you?"  
  
       "Shouldn't I be asking that question?" Khiasa's black eyes smoldered as he closed the door behind him then advanced on Julian with single-minded focus, his accent thickening with arousal. "I can smell it on you - the heat, the need. I can give you some relief, yes?"  
  
       "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Julian said, raising his hands defensively to ward him off, his silver-tongued wit failing him as he protested awkwardly, "I don't need ... relieving."  
  
       Khiasa glanced pointedly at the prominent bulge in Julian's trousers, then back up at his face.  
  
       "Err, yes, but ... that's not ... it's not what you ... this is because of ..."  
  
       Julian floundered for an excuse that didn't involve the word 'mate,' since he really didn't have the right to call Sirius that until Sirius had accepted him, but he knew that nothing less than learning Julian had committed himself to another man would deter Khiasa from being ... _helpful_.  
  
       "This monk-like restraint doesn't suit you," Khiasa continued, disregarding Julian's protests. "I will not ask for anything beyond this night, so please ... don't turn me away."  
  
       He curled his fingers around Julian's upper arms, handling him as easily as if he were a naive fledgling again, dragging him forward into what would surely be the same hard, uncompromising kiss that Khiasa had given Julian on the night of his first breeding cycle. Julian, flattered that a morion of Khiasa's age and stature would offer his body to satisfy Julian's instincts, had surrendered to that embrace without fear or expectations, showing his gratitude by returning the favor months later when Khiasa's cycle began, and for years that partnership had benefited both of them.   
  
       _But I'm not some starstruck kid anymore,_ Julian reminded himself. _I chose Sirius, not Khiasa._   
  
       He quickly turned his head to the side, evading the lips that sought to persuade him in place of words, and Khiasa's mouth brushed over his cheek instead, leaving a warm, moist trail on his skin. He heard and felt Khiasa's ragged sigh against his ear, and years of experience told him that a second assault was imminent if he didn't do something to stop it.  
  
       He stepped back to put distance between them, confessing, "I can't. I have a mate."  
  
       Khiasa's head snapped back as if he'd been struck. He stared in stunned disbelief at Julian, a lone, stray shadow winding its cool, misty arms around his neck as if to comfort him, but then he seemed to come back to his senses, grabbing Julian by the shoulders and giving him a rough shake.  
  
       "You're lying," he hissed, hiscomplexion darkening with anger.  
  
       Julian pushed him away, stung by Khiasa's accusation. He had always made a point of living his life openly, never barricading his mind from the people closest to him ... and he and Khiasa certainly fell into the 'close' category, even though Julian had ended their physical relationship several years ago when it became apparent that Khiasa was starting to expect more. "When have I ever lied to you?"  
  
       Khiasa managed to smooth out his expression as he buried his emotions, forcing Julian into a more intimate conversation as he pressed his voice into his mind. [Who? Who did you choose? And why haven't I heard of this?]   
  
       [It was recent ... and I haven't told anyone.] He deliberately avoided naming Sirius, feeling he'd already gone too far by saying he had a mate in the first place.   
  
       [ _Who_ , Julian.]   
  
       Khiasa's authoritarian tones struck a raw nerve with Julian, bringing out that childish side of him that resented discipline and rules and being interrogated by his elders. He had been a rebellious fledgling, to the despair of his mother and the delight of his father, and he'd never outgrown that particular adolescent phase.   
  
       [I don't have to tell you anything, Khiasa. You should go to bed. _Your_ bed.]   
  
       He brushed past him and walked to the door, intending to usher Khiasa out of the room with the dignity and respect that was due him, but then the room swayed and his vision blurred, a sweet lethargy weighing down his limbs, rendering movement of any kind an intolerable taxation on his suddenly-exhausted body. He felt drunk - or in the afterglow of an unbelievably strong orgasm - but since he hadn't been drinking and Sirius was still hiding under the bed, neither scenario seemed likely. He stood staring dumbly at the door, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but his mind was too full of ... something. Or was it ... someone? Julian growled and tried to focus his scattered thoughts so he could dislodge the invader from his mind.   
  
       [You're stronger than I remember,] Khiasa's voice sliced through the haze.   
  
       [And you sound more like Rauko every day,] was Julian's sharp reply, [though I didn't think you'd stoop to his level.]   
  
       His mind was instantly freed, and Julian gulped in air as he realized how hard he'd been struggling under Khiasa's control. He felt like he'd just given a piggy-back ride to an elephant.   
  
       "All I want is a name," Khiasa said quietly, making no apologies, though his harsh black gaze had softened to a smoky charcoal as he refrained from encroaching on Julian's thoughts any further. "You owe me that much."   
  
       Julian glared at him, ready to curse his existence and kick him out into the hallway, but compassion for Khiasa's position (one that Julian, himself, had felt destined to occupy in regards to Sirius) had him swallowing his anger so he could give Khiasa the answer he sought, though he was still so winded that he had to resort to mindspeak. [His name is Sirius.]   
  
       "Sirius?" Khiasa's brows knitted together in a perplexed frown. "You are mated to ... the _dog_?"  
  
       Julian struggled to catch his breath, eager to explain everything and get it all out in the open, but he didn't answer quickly enough for Khiasa as he continued on in a quiet, disappointed tone.  
  
       "This is one of your jokes, yes?"  
  
       Julian growled and shook his head 'no.'  
  
       "Do you want to be rid of me so much that you would resort to cruel humor?"  
  
       "Just let me expl - "  
  
       "I understand." Khiasa cut him off, every subtle nuance of his expression disappearing beneath a smooth mask of indifference. He moved to the door, stern and silent once more, but he paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Ah, one more thing. I have been assigned to protect Miss Granger for as long as she needs me, but I have also been instructed to select several guardians for the Heir once he leaves this place. I assume you wish to be a part of his retinue?"  
  
       "Of course," Julian said, "but good luck persuading Severus to allow strangers near his mate. You can select as many guardians as you want, but even Rauko knows by now that Severus and Harry are going to do what they want, regardless of what he says."  
  
       "I am only following orders."  
  
       "Dutiful Khiasa," Julian said softly, his smile turning cynical. "Have you _ever_ disobeyed one of Rauko's orders?"  
  
       Khiasa's eyes narrowed, but he didn't answer what was obviously a rhetorical question. Instead, he opened the door, started to step out into the hallway, then thought better of it and turned back to yank Julian against his chest and force a heated kiss on him, easily dominating Julian's mouth and ignoring his muffled sounds of protest, then he shoved him away just as quickly, without a flicker of emotion disturbing the blankness of his expression.   
  
       "Give your 'mate' my best regards," he said before walking away, leaving Julian to glare after him in delayed fury.   
  
       "Damn him and his surprise attacks," he muttered, slamming the door shut then wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. When was Khiasa going to get the point and stop pursuing him? What, was he actually going to have to _shag_ Sirius in front of Khiasa before the latter would finally give up?  
  
       "Do you let just anybody kiss you like that?"  
  
       Julian spun around to see Sirius standing beside the bed with a scowl on his face and dust bunnies caught in his shaggy dark hair. He ignored the question, though its jealous implications sent a secret thrill through him. Instead, he leaned back against the dresser, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his mate with a lazy grin.  
  
       "Come up for air, have you?"   
  
       "Don't change the subject. Just who was that wanker and why was he putting his hands all over you?"  
  
       "You _know_ who he is, remember? We talked about him at supper last night. Khiasa is a bodyguard - the best of the best, according to Mori standards, which means he's exceptional at what he does. Hermione is lucky to have him shadowing her; normally he only guards the Mori elite. He and I have a bit of history together - _ancient_ history," he clarified at the tightening of Sirius's mouth. "Nothing that should worry you."  
  
       Sirius suddenly found the floor very interesting, staring at the wood with a frown. "Who's worried?"  
  
       Julian clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to grab Sirius and snog him senseless. His voice, when he trusted himself to speak, came out strained and husky. "Forget Khiasa. We really need to get back to what were talking about before he - "  
  
       "What did he mean when he said 'Heir' earlier? Was he talking about Harry?"  
  
       "Yes, but - "  
  
       "Does Harry know that Rauko sees him as his _heir_? What does that even mean?"  
  
       "It's complicated, Sirius, and it involves centuries-old Mori nonsense that no one in their right mind would care about, so can we please get back to what happened between us last - "  
  
       "Does Snape know about this? What about Dumbledore? If Harry's his heir, what does that make Aiya? Exactly how long has Rauko had this planned? Since he knew about Harry? Has this been his agenda all along?"  
  
       "Sirius!" Julian crossed the room before Sirius could even blink, moving as fast as apparition, and all at once he had pushed Sirius down on the bed, straddling his body to keep him from moving. "Will you just shut up for a minute?"  
  
       "This position feels familiar," Sirius grumbled.   
  
       "This is payback for jumping up and down on my chest earlier."  
  
       "And _that_ was payback for disappearing this morning without a word. What the hell were you thinking?"  
  
       Julian relaxed his hold on Sirius's wrists, bowing his head to hide the vulnerable expression stealing over his face. "I was thinking ... what if I forced him? What if ... what if he hates me?"  
  
       Sirius stared up at him in disbelief - did Julian not remember how Sirius had felt him up last night? Or the part where he'd nearly shoved his cock up Julian's arse? All too late, Sirius realized he'd thought those things a tad too loudly as Julian lifted his head so fast that Sirius was afraid it would snap off. His eyes were huge, like two full moons gleaming yellow against his pale skin, and he cupped Sirius's face in his hands as he started firing off a stream of disjointed sentences.  
  
       "Did we have - well, of course we had sex - but did you ... in me? No ... no, you didn't ... did you? I mean, I wouldn't have minded - no, that's not what I - but it could be _bad_ , Sirius, if you did and you're not ... not sure about us. Bad for you, not for me - well, bad for me, too, if _you_ think it's bad, but not bad for me in general. It's just, I could get - "  
  
       " - pregnant?" Sirius finished for him, a bemused smile spreading over his lips, inexplicably charmed by Julian's frantic babbling. "Yes, you told me, right before you took me again for the .. what was it? Fifth? Sixth time?"  
  
       "That's it?" Julian actually sounded surprised that the number wasn't higher.  
  
       "Oh, get off of me," Sirius said as he pushed at Julian's shoulders, though he was somewhat disappointed when Julian immediately rolled off him so he could get up - yet another unexpected response that he didn't want to analyze too closely.  
  
       "I don't hate you," he said as he stood up. "As for everything else ... all this 'mates' business ... I don't know. You didn't exactly ask me if I wanted any of it. I need ... time."  
  
       _Not an outright rejection_ , Julian thought. _I can live with that_.  
  
       "Take all the time you need," he said, though honestly he wanted nothing more than to be back in bed, buried to the hilt inside of Sirius's body, drawing more of those throaty cries from Sirius's lips as he renewed his claim again and again. His body still burned with the fever of his breeding cycle, but at a level he could endure without losing control, so long as he didn't accidentally stumble upon a naked Sirius anytime soon. With everything that was going on with the war and with Harry, there would be plenty of diversions to keep him from suffering too heavily, and then there was always ...  
  
       "Oh, and stay out of my dreams," Sirius said, crushing Julian's last hope for finding relief from something other than his own hand in the immediate future, but Sirius was unrepentant as he held firm to his conditions. "I find it more than a little disturbing that you can just pop in and out of my subconscious mind whenever you're having a pervy moment."  
  
       " _Pervy moment_?" Julian did his best to sound offended, but his mouth was made for grins, and a huge one shone through the shaky frown he'd tried to maintain in the face of Sirius's comment.  
  
       Sirius scowled. "You know what I mean."   
  
       Julian sighed and nodded. "Fine, no more pleasant dreams for either of us, then."   
  
       "And starting tomorrow, you're going to tell me everything about this 'heir' business that Khiasa mentioned."   
  
       "Whatever you want, _a'maelamin_."   
  
       Sirius fumbled with the doorknob, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment. "Lisette told me what that means, so ... quit saying it. I'm not ... I ... I can't deal with that, yet."   
  
       "Ahh, sorry, it won't happen again." Julian remained where he was, propped up on his elbows as he lounged on the bed, fighting the overwhelming instinct to tackle Sirius and drag him back to bed. He was determined to prove to Sirius that he could give him the space he needed ... but he couldn't resist teasing him as he asked softly, "Not going to kiss me goodnight?"   
  
       "Oh, that kiss from Khiasa wasn't enough for you?"   
  
       A laugh bubbled up in Julian's throat but he kept it carefully trapped behind a neutral expression. He'd bask in the memory of Sirius's jealousy later. He sat up and leaned forward, a reckless, boyish grin flitting across his lips as he studied Sirius with his warm butterscotch gaze.   
  
       "Do you really want Khiasa's kiss to be the last one I can remember?"   
  
       Sirius finally got the door open, but his triumph over the stubborn doorknob lasted only as long as it took for Julian's question to sink in. He narrowed his slate-gray eyes, hesitating in the open doorway, then marched back over to the bed and bent down to press his lips against Julian's mouth in a kiss that was as tender as Khiasa's had been dominating. Tentative at first, Sirius slowly deepened the kiss after Julian obligingly parted his lips with a soft moan, but he drew away every time Julian tried to kiss him back, forcing Julian to simply receive what Sirius offered him and nothing more ...

       ... _and it drove Julian wild._   
  
       [Let me taste you,] he begged, pushed past his limits as he grabbed for Sirius to pull him into an embrace, but Sirius evaded him and backed away, panting softly.   
  
       "I don't think you'll be forgetting my kiss anytime soon," he said, raking his hand through his dark hair as he kept moving towards the door, though he seemed to have a hard time keeping his eyes off of Julian's mouth.   
  
       Julian's eyes flared a predatory yellow and he started to get up from the bed. [Sirius ...]   
  
       "Good night, Julian," Sirius said quickly, and he ducked out into the hallway and closed the door behind him.   
  
  
  


* * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
       "Did you grow an extra pair of hands that I don't know about?" Harry asked, bewildered, as he was unceremoniously stripped of his shirt and pants, a soft 'oof' escaping him as he was then pushed down onto the bed, his legs propped up so Severus could yank off his socks, then came the cool tickle of fingers at the waistband of his boxers as Severus sought to rid himself of the last impediment between his lascivious gaze and Harry's flushed, feverish body.   
  
       "My efficiency amazes you, I know,” Severus drawled, sounding bored, but there was no mistaking the intense interest behind his black gaze as he peeled away Harry’s final garment, and that hushed exhale of satisfaction at the unveiling of Harry’s stiffening cock would never pass as a yawn.   
  
       “So, that was an interesting meeting we had, don’t you think?” Harry’s awkward small talk did little to deter Severus’s wandering hands as they stole up his thighs and stroked small circles over his hips. “I never would have guessed Rhys and Culpepper were related.”   
  
       Severus raised a brow at Harry’s sudden interest in rehashing the meeting. He held Harry’s hips down with his left hand while the right hand zeroed in on Harry's cock, curling his fingers around the hard shaft while his thumb brushed lazily up and down the sensitive underside. “Shocking, yes.”   
  
       _Oh, not good,_ Harry thought, losing his focus as Severus’s caressed him. “And that … umm, that part about Rhys … being, _ohh_ , being kidnapped. Hermione thinks … Hermione thinks …”   
  
       Damned if Harry could remember what Hermione thought as Severus nibbled at the tip of his cock, licking up the first dribbles of precum, keeping Harry’s hips pressed firmly against the mattress with that restraining left hand while the right continued to tease and torment him.   
  
       “Granger thinks too much,” Severus muttered, doubling his efforts to end the conversation as he buried his face in Harry’s crotch.   
  
       Harry refused to be derailed, and a single buck of his hips dislodged Severus so that Harry could crawl over to the opposite side of the bed. Severus sighed and turned away, stripping off his own clothes with less enthusiasm than when he’d stripped Harry.   
  
       Harry carried on talking, able to think clearly now that he didn’t have that hot, wet mouth anywhere near his cock. Just to be safe, he didn’t look over to watch Severus undress, convinced it would only hinder his plans.   
  
       "Don't you think it’s important that we learn as much as we can about Culpepper's work? He's the only link that Voldemort - or Lucius, or Lyr, or whoever is pulling the strings these days - has to the Mori right now, and until we know everything that he knows, we leave ourselves open to _mmmrf_. Mrmmf?!"   
  
       Severus examined his handiwork with a pleased smile, having produced a gag from a torn piece of cloth that effectively stifled Harry’s rambling discussion of Nathaniel Culpepper. “Ahh, sweet silence.”   
  
       Harry glared at him, unamused.   
  
       “You brought this on yourself,” Severus said, sounding almost cheerful as he prevented Harry from removing the gag himself by tying his wrists together with a longer strip of cloth, revealing his source of material to be Harry’s own shirt, now laying in ruins on the bedroom floor.   
  
       [I know I’ve said don’t use magic on me, but your resourcefulness leaves something to be desired,] Harry complained, thinking how much simpler it would have been if Severus had just gagged and bound him with spells instead of ripping up his shirt into useless rags.   
  
       “I never liked that shirt anyway,” Severus said before pushing Harry down to lie flat on the mattress.  
  
       [Admit it, you just like to see me naked.]   
  
       “Covering up this body is a sin,” was as much of a confession as Severus would make as he parted Harry’s legs and slid between them, kissing his way up the Harry's body, latching onto one rosy nipple, then its twin, tearing a cry from Harry’s lips as he savagely bit the hard bud, then soothed it with his tongue.   
  
       Suddenly, both their bodies went rigid as a blast of ice-cold fear assaulted their minds - a fear that was not their own.   
  
       Severus - panting and oh-so-hard - bowed his head in resignation. "Nightmare."   
  
       [Nightmare,] Harry echoed, and he stretched out his thoughts to the frightened fledgling in the next room over, calming him and reassuring him that everything was alright.   
  
       "I'll go," Severus said, rolling off of Harry and summoning his robe. He gave Harry a last once-over, flecks of silver glinting in his obsidian eyes as he dragged his gaze over Harry's body, then he gathered his shadows and opened a threshold. "Don't move. I'll be right back."   
  
       Harry numbly nodded his head and tried to stretch his stiff arms, only to remember why they were in such an awkward position in the first place. His indignant demand for release was muffled by the gag in his mouth, so he repeated it silently, [Hey! At least untie my hands before you - ]   
  
       Severus didn't even wait for the rest of the sentence as he disappeared into the void, leaving Harry all trussed-up and alone on the bed.   
  
       _This isn't exactly going the way I pictured it,_ Harry thought to himself as he stared at the ceiling. He contemplated cutting the bindings on his wrists with a severing charm, but it didn't seem worth the effort - Severus would probably just tie him up again, anyway.   
  
       _I keep letting him sidetrack me._ Harry wriggled around until he was pushed up against the pillows, too embarrassed to just lay there spread-eagled waiting for Severus to return. Somehow, he had to take back control of the situation, no matter how much his instincts pressured him to just submit.   
  
       _Why did I let Hermione talk me into this?_ The simple act of walking up and down the stairs was enough to exhaust him these days - how did he ever expect to shag Severus into submission? Severus's stamina had only increased after his turning, so he could carry on for hours without breaking a sweat, but Harry was lucky to last long enough for just one mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasm from his mate before his body begged for sleep. What else had Hermione suggested? _Scream, cry, beg ..._ but none of those seemed like viable solutions when it came to Severus. Screaming and begging were more likely to win Harry a pleasantly sore bottom than a trip to Gringotts.   
  
       _Such is life with a Slytherin,_ he thought drowsily, starting to get sleepy now that there was no Severus to stimulate him. _If he were a Gryffindor, the adventure alone would be enough to convince him to let us go._   
  
       _Hmm, Severus as a Gryffindor …_ He tried to picture Severus in his own House had they been the same age, but all he could manage were illicit fantasies of late-night ‘study sessions’ and closed bed curtains and perfecting their silencing charms for all the wrong reasons.   
  
       [I don’t know what put the idea into your head,] Severus’s voice came crashing into his mind with startling clarity, [but I’d rather you didn’t imagine me as your Gryffindor bunkmate. Honestly, Potter, the very idea makes my skin crawl.]   
  
       [What? Being a Gryffindor? Or being my bunkmate?]   
  
       Severus glided out of the shadows and shrugged out of his robe. “The Gryffindor part, of course. Sharing close quarters with you would be my only consolation,” he said, resuming his favorite position between Harry’s thighs.   
  
       Harry steered the conversation back to the reason for Severus’s brief disappearance. [How is Dorian?]   
  
       "He's fine. He went right back to sleep." Severus gently removed the gag from Harry's mouth, soothing his lips with a long, lingering kiss before pulling away to stare down at him. "So, do you have something you want to tell me?"   
  
       Harry looked up at him with surprise, his mouth so dry from the gag that his voice came out in a croak. "What makes you think that?"  
  
       "Dorian told me all about his nightmare, down to the very last detail, and it occurred to me that you have yet to breathe a word about your own dream."   
  
       "Oh, that." Harry wet his dry lips, wishing he still had the gag. He knew he would eventually have to tell Severus about his vision, but actually putting the horror of his dream into words felt like an impossible task.   
  
       "I'm not Rauko," Severus said. "I'm not going to rip your secrets out of your head just because I feel entitled to know them, but how long are you going to avoid this? What is it you're hiding? What happened to full disclosure?"   
  
       Harry turned his head and fixed his jade-green gaze on the wall. "If I can't change it then what's the point in telling you about it?"   
  
       "You can't always carry the burden alone, Potter," Severus said with mild exasperation as he cut the makeshift bonds around Harry's wrists with a silent spell, tossing the scraps of cloth aside. For now, playtime would have to be postponed. "I'm giving you fair warning here. The more you shut me out, the harder it is for me to let you out of my sight, and I am not above chaining you up in this room and never letting you leave."   
  
       "Promises, promises," Harry mumbled, but with a reluctant grin turning up the corners of his mouth, and he reached up to slide his fingers into Severus's long hair before pulling him down for a brief kiss. "How about we make a bargain? I'll tell you all about my vision, if you promise to do me a favor in return."   
  
       "Favor?" Severus eyes narrowed, first in suspicion, then with a glimmer of wickedness as he asked in a velvet purr, "What kind of favor?"   
  
       Harry opened his mouth to clarify what he wanted, but then he changed his mind and simply smiled. "Does it matter?"   
  
       "You're up to something, Potter," Severus accused. He brushed his thumb over Harry's bottom lip, smirking when Harry playfully bit him. "Fine, I agree. Now tell me about your vision."   
  
       Harry quietly described the entire nightmare, from painfully stumbling down the dark, unfamiliar hallway to finding Julian beaten and bleeding in the opulent bedroom, but he faltered after explaining how he'd ran out of Dorian's old bedroom at the Lennox house, unsure how to tell Severus about being Lucius's prisoner without sending him into a rage.   
  
       "There was light all around me - I couldn't move, couldn't get away," he said, averting his gaze, and he realized that aside from worrying about Severus's reaction, Harry's real reluctance in revisiting that part of his vision stemmed from shame - after all, how could he be so weak as to let himself get captured? What mistakes would he make in the future that would give Lucius the upper hand? His recklessness had landed him in dangerous situations time and again in the past, and it looked like his future wouldn't be any different. It was all too easy to blame himself for what happened in his vision - would Severus blame him as well? He bit back his fear and kept talking, "Lucius was there. He talked about a room where I'd been kept, and that he'd make the pain go away if I - "  
  
       Anger shot through Harry, white-hot and blistering - _his_ anger, not Severus's, though he could also feel the frigid undercurrents of his mate's temper, distant but tangible - and he squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to suppress those emotions that might upset the baby, or lead to an unfortunate explosion of magic.   
  
       "I wanted to kill him," Harry snarled, failing miserably at keeping the anger and dark energy at bay. "That's all I could think about when I woke up - how I would kill him and laugh when it was over."   
  
       "A perfectly reasonable reaction." Severus stroked his hands up and down Harry's sides, dispelling a fraction of that dark energy with each trace of his fingertips over Harry's skin. He wore his mask of calmness well, withholding as much of his own reaction as he could, but his eyes glittered with unspoken malice at the thought of Lucius Malfoy coming anywhere near _his_ Harry. "I know how real those dreams of yours can seem - it must have been terrifying."   
  
       "I just ... I want us to be safe. All of us. Maybe Rauko is right - maybe the Underground is the best place for us."   
  
       Severus raised his hands to Harry's shoulders, massaging away the tension that had gathered in his muscles. "Who was it that told me never to tell Rauko he was right about anything? _We_ decide what is best for us, Harry, not him. And I'll tell you right now, whatever decisions we do make, we are _not_ going to make them out of fear of Lucius Malfoy or Xander Lyr or even Voldemort, do you hear me?"   
  
       Harry nodded, a weak smile curving his lips. He enjoyed Severus's expert touch in contented silence at first, but his curious nature prompted him to say, "You did it again, you know."   
  
       "Hmmm? Did what?"  
  
       "You said Voldemort."   
  
       Severus ran his hands down the front of Harry's chest, far more interested in that expanse of smooth flesh than he was in Voldemort, and he leaned in to kiss Harry's neck before murmuring in his ear, "That is his name, I believe."   
  
       "Well … yes …," Harry said, distracted by the tongue that lapped at his earlobe, but then he shook himself, determined to learn why Severus suddenly felt comfortable using the V-word, "… but you never called him Voldemort. You didn't even like it when _I_ said Voldemort. What changed?"   
  
       " _I_ changed," Severus whispered, the last traces of his dimming fading from his sharp, angular features, his pale skin lit with a muted glow in the darkness of the bedroom. He gripped Harry under the thighs and brought his legs up around his waist, rocking forward slowly, inch by torturous inch, teasing Harry with only a hint of friction, a preview of delights to come.   
  
       "Oh," Harry said, his voice catching, his eyes shifting from troubled jade to hungry aquamarine. He locked his ankles behind Severus's back and urged him forward with an impatient moan, all thoughts of Voldemort, his vision, and even the trip to Gringotts obliterated from his mind as Severus continued to grind his cock against Harry's.  
  
       “You never told me what favor you wanted from me,” Severus said, catching Harry’s lower lip between his teeth but letting go before drawing any blood. “Are you going to ask me now or later?”   
  
       Harry gasped as Severus followed up all his slow, sensual rocking with a quick, hard thrust, and he choked out, “Later, much later,” and proceeded to forget all about the reason he’d ‘seduced’ Severus in the first place. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **a'maelamin** = my beloved; a common Mori term of endearment


	50. Hermione's Perfect Plan

 

       By the time Ron and Hermione came looking for him the following morning, Harry was already up and dressed and getting Dorian ready for the day. They walked in just as a small white sock went soaring through the air and landed on the floor at their feet.   
  
       "Whoa, mate. Better put up a warning sign if there’s going to be stray socks flung at any and all visitors." Ron bent down to pick it up. "Should we keep a lookout for flying trousers?"   
  
       "Sorry, sorry." Harry didn’t even turn around to look at them as he tried to keep a squirming, scowling Dorian from pulling off the other sock. "He's been really fussy this morning."   
  
       Dorian threw his arms as far as they would go around Harry's middle and pressed his cheek to his stomach, grumbling sleepily in Elvish while rubbing his cheek against Harry's shirt. Every now and then, he'd throw in an extra sound, a cross between a whistle and a hiss that Harry had never heard him make before. Every time he heard it, a chill shot up Harry’s spine. If he didn't know better, it sounded like Dorian was trying to speak parseltongue. But that was ridiculous, wasn't it? Where would Dorian have heard parseltongue in the first place?   
  
       Gently, he pried Dorian off of him. "Don't you want to eat breakfast with Severus? You can't go downstairs if you don't have your socks on."   
  
       “The way Kreacher cleans, you never know what sort of nastiness you’ll step in,” Ron added as he covertly handed Harry the errant sock.   
  
       “Everyone will miss you if you stay up in your room all day.” Hermione sat down beside him on the bed, running her hand over his tangled curls as she smiled down at him.   
  
       Dorian looked around at each of them, his grumpy pout softening into a troubled frown. He warily eyed the sock in Harry’s hand, wiggling the toes of his bare foot as he appeared to give serious thought to the offer placed before him, but finally, with another whistling hiss and a whisper of frustrated Elvish, he stuck out his foot to Harry in surrender.   
  
       “Bless you, Dor,” Harry said with great relief, pressing a kiss to his forehead before returning to the task at hand.   
  
       "So, did you ask Snape about Gringotts?" Hermione ran a comb through Dorian’s curls while Harry slipped the sock onto Dorian’s foot.   
  
       “Not exactly,” he answered slowly, avoiding Hermione’s gaze as she immediately narrowed in on his red-cheeked face. “That is, I didn’t ask him in so many words … but he does owe me a favor now.”   
  
       “The old ‘Potter Charm’ at work, eh?” Ron waggled his eyebrows suggestively.   
  
       “Ron, don’t be creepy,” Hermione admonished him briskly then turned back to Harry. “I think we should go today, Harry, so you’ll need to tell him about it as soon as possible – before breakfast, if you can manage it.”   
  
       Harry picked up a sour-faced but fully-dressed Dorian and set him loose; Dorian promptly toddled over to the makeshift toy chest that Sirius had set up for him, snatched up his giraffe with a death-lock on its long, skinny neck, and then planted himself on the floor with a soft thump and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Harry watched him in perplexed concern for another few seconds before Hermione’s words penetrated his brain and he looked up at her in surprise.   
  
       “Why does it have to be today?”   
  
       “Time is our enemy here, Harry. Who knows how long Culpepper will be safe now that Lyr has Rhys? We need to move fast if we want to be prepared for any attacks against us.” She fiddled with the key around her neck then added sharply, “Besides, don’t you want to get out of this house? I wouldn’t blame Sirius if he went mad having to live here day in and day out without being able to leave.”   
  
       Ron rolled his eyes. “Our Hermione is the only person in the world who can get cabin fever after less than twenty-four hours.”   
  
       “Actually, that doesn’t sound like ‘our’ Hermione at all,” Harry said with a suspicious look at Hermione's flustered face. He frowned, leaning forward to peer into her eyes. “You … haven’t been hearing _voices_ , have you?”   
  
       Ron snorted; Hermione gave Harry a gentle shove on the shoulder, ducking her head as it was now her turn to avoid his gaze.   
  
       “I haven’t gone crazy, if that’s what you’re implying.”   
  
       “You know very well what I’m implying, and it hasn’t got a thing to do with your mental health. _He_ got to you, right? What, did he plant the idea in your head while you were sleeping or is this the result of some unspoken conversation you two had last night at the meeting?”   
  
       “Did I miss something?” Ron asked, completely befuddled by this latest turn in the conversation.   
  
       “Rauko wants to know what’s in that vault just as much as we do,” Hermione said defensively. “Can you blame him? He has an entire race to protect.”   
  
       Harry sighed. Hermione’s heart was in the right place, but she was in way over head when it came to dealing with the demon leader of the Mori. He’d have to have a talk with his adopted father about taking advantage of Hermione’s fondness for mistreated magical creatures.   
  
       _First house-elves, now the Mori … she certainly likes her battles to be near-impossible to win_ , Harry thought wryly. With a shrug and a resigned smile, he conceded to Hermione’s timetable. “Fine. Today it is – if we can get Severus to agree _and_ if we can get Julian and Khiasa to shadow us, too.”   
  
       “Professor Snape is your department,” Hermione reminded him, but with a pleased expression now that her plan was back on track. “Leave Julian and Khiasa to me.”   
  
       “That Khiasa would follow her to You-Know-Who’s front door if she asked him to,” Ron mumbled.   
  
       Hermione laughed at her boyfriend’s sullen tone. “He’s just doing his job, Ron. He’s shadowing you, too, remember?”   
  
       “Me? The _pureblood_? He looks at me like I’m something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.”   
  
       “You’re imagining things.”   
  
       “And you're keen on him, aren't you. That's why you're defending him like this."   
  
       “Keen? On _Khiasa_? I honestly think that's the stupidest thing you've ever said."   
  
       Harry tuned out their little spat and squatted down next to Dorian. The little boy hadn’t moved or spoken since plopping down on the hardwood floor with his giraffe, and Harry could detect the hint of a storm in Dorian’s usual sea-breeze scent. Harry sat down cross-legged next to him and brushed away the dark curls that were falling into those ocean-blue eyes.   
  
       _This poor kid really needs a haircut_ , he reminded himself for what felt like the fiftieth time, but to Dorian he said softly, “What’s wrong? Are you still thinking about your nightmare last night?”   
  
       Dorian nodded in silent affirmation as he plucked at Geoffrey’s skinny tail.   
  
       “You might feel better if you tell me what’s bothering you.”   
  
       Dorian pulled his thumb free of his mouth only to persist in that whistling hiss from earlier, entirely unintelligible … but then Harry caught a syllable here, a word there, like trying to listen to a radio riddled with static. Dorian placed one hand on Harry’s stomach, his brow furrowed in fierce concentration as he finally achieved a measure of fluency in the language he’d been trying to speak, managing small phrases between the noisy, nonsensical hissing:   
  
       “… don’t go … he says don’t go … hard to say … don’t go …”  
  
       “Don’t go where, Dorian?” Harry asked, but a squeak of alarm from his right had him looking up at Ron, his friend’s face suddenly pale, then at Hermione, who looked surprised but intrigued.   
  
       “What? What is it?”   
  
       "Please tell me I'm hearing things," Ron said in a creaky voice. "Tell me Dorian isn't a parselmouth."   
  
       Harry blinked. "Were we speaking parseltongue?"   
  
       Hermione rushed over and knelt in front of Dorian. "Where did you learn to talk like that, Dorian?"   
  
       Dorian scrunched up as small as he could get, bringing Geoffrey up in front of his face so only his wide, blue eyes could be seen. He half-hid behind the plush toy, holding it like a shield he could use to ward off this sudden interrogation.   
  
       " _Loki_  talks like that sometimes in my dreams," he said in a voice muffled by the stuffed animal. "I didn't know it was bad."   
  
       "There's nothing bad about it," Harry reassured him, and Dorian relaxed his white-knuckled grip on Geoffrey's neck.   
  
       "Do you know who he's talking about?" Hermione whispered. "Who is Loki?"   
  
       Harry shrugged and shook his head; he didn’t know who Dorian was referring to, but he'd heard the name _loki_ before ... Aiya had said it in that memory she'd sent him. Well, she'd said _ai'loki,_ but the words were enough alike that Harry figured they were closely related.   
  
       _Loki means 'snake' in Elvish_ , Vala translated from the back of Harry's mind where he seemed to have carved out a permanent corner for himself. He was fast proving himself to be the most helpful spirit that Harry had ever encountered. _Ai'loki means 'little snake.'_  
  
       Dorian patted Harry's stomach, a smile emerging from behind his grouchy expression like sunshine after a rainstorm. “I tried to say the same words _Loki_ said, but you didn't understand. Now you understand and I feel lots better now.”   
  
       _Ahh, so this is why Rauko has been so smug lately_ , Vala said with a hint of petulance marring his velvety voice. _He has an evolutionary wonder for a son and a snake-speaking wunderkind for a grandchild._  
  
       “Grandchild? Oh gods, _of course_.” Harry could have smacked himself over how dense he'd been all this time. The snake from his vision – it hadn't been Voldemort at all. No wonder the voice had told him not to be afraid. Why should he be afraid of his own child? And the voice had said 'he' and Dorian had called _loki_ a 'he,' so that meant ...   
  
      ... _I'm having a son_ , Harry thought to himself with a goofy smile.   
  
       “So why haven't you been talking to _me_ in my dreams?” He asked the baby aloud, much to Ron's vocal distress.   
  
       “Quit _doing_ that,” Ron said, clapping his hands over his ears. “I hate it when you talk like that.”   
  
       “I was speaking parseltongue again? I was just talking to the baby.” Harry found this all to be a little overwhelming. He'd never spoken to the baby other than through their mental connection, so he'd never known of his child's unique talent. He wondered if it was simply because the snake was his son's familiar that he felt naturally compelled to speak parseltongue to him.   
  
       “It's the baby, then?” Hermione couldn't keep the excitement from her voice. “The baby is who Dorian was talking to? Then that must mean the baby is a parselmouth ... but how is that possible? I know communication with their unborn children is normal for Mori parents, but I don't think it's normal for the child to carry on conversations in parseltongue.”   
  
       “No, probably not,” Harry said wryly, then he repeated his earlier thought quietly, reverently, “I'm having a son.”   
  
       It wasn't as if he'd thought a lot about whether his child would be a boy or a girl, and of course he would have been happy either way, but knowing the baby's sex changed so much about how Harry perceived his child. Now, the picture he had in his mind of how his child might look had grown sharper – would he have Severus's eyes? Or Harry's unruly hair? Or would he look like either of them at all?   
  
       “A boy, eh? Congratulations!” Ron grinned as he thumped him on the back. “If he's anything like you, he'll be a handful.”   
  
       “Bloody hell, you're right,” Harry said, faintly alarmed by the scenarios that Ron's innocent comment conjured in his mind.   
  
       Severus intruded on his thoughts with thinly-veiled impatience. [This emotional roller-coaster you're on is ruining my appetite. What's going on up there? Are you coming down to breakfast or do I have to come up there and fetch you?]   
  
       “And here I thought Dorian was the only one who woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Harry muttered, ignoring the puzzled looks from his friends. He stood up, scooped Dorian into his arms, and walked to the door, leaving Ron and Hermione to follow him in confused silence. [We're on our way. No need to get snippy.]   
  
       [I am never _snippy_ , Potter,] Severus shot back, but his peevish tone had softened considerably.   
  
       Harry grinned and held his tongue, eager to get downstairs so he could share the news of their 'snake-speaking wunderkind' with his mate face-to-face. No doubt Severus would be overjoyed to learn his son was practically guaranteed to be sorted into Slytherin once he was old enough to attend Hogwarts, but then Harry's smile sobered as he realized it might not be possible for his own child to attend the wizarding school after all. Everything was so uncertain these days ...   
  
       [There you go again,] Severus said, marking the latest slump in Harry's emotional ups and downs. [Here, let me provide you with a little entertainment: Rauko looks as if he spent the night sleeping on a very uncomfortable couch, and Black is still masquerading as a house pet. At least one of those two mental images is sure to cheer you, yes?]   
  
       Harry chuckled at the thought of Rauko being kicked out of bed by Lisette and forced to sleep somewhere else ... and he even had to smile a little at Sirius's insistence on remaining a dog. Things were never dull at Grimmauld Place when the house was full of Mori.   
  
       Severus noted Harry's raised spirits with a purr of approval. [Much better. Now, hurry up. That no-good brother of mine is eating everything in sight and there may not be anything left for you.]   
  
       The first sight to greet Harry’s eyes on entering the room was a drooping, drowsy Rauko, his dark hair mussed and in need of a good comb, his wrinkled dress shirt looked as if he’d slept in it – _which he probably did_ , Harry thought with a small, _very small_ , flicker of compassion, finding this bedraggled Rauko with bags under his eyes and ‘bedhead’ far more endearing than the impeccable, imperious Rauko of the past.   
  
       Julian sat to his right, a pained expression on his face as he devoured his breakfast. He seemed to take a bite whenever Khiasa, seated across from him, tried to engage him in conversation, until finally the solemn-eyed Mori gave up and contented himself with watching Julian make a pig of himself. Sirius – still disguised as Padfoot – had curled up in his own little corner of the room, and every now and then he would raise his head to stare unblinkingly at Julian (mostly when Khiasa leaned over to say something to him). For Harry, he managed a weak bark to welcome him to the table, but then he fell silent again, resting his head on his paws and watching the others eat.   
  
       “You’re going to get sick if you keep skipping meals,” Harry warned him under his breath as he passed by, but Padfoot just whined and went back to staring.   
  
       [Julian is eating enough for both of them,] was Severus’s snarky comment as he pulled out the chair next to him for Harry.   
  
       Harry handed Dorian off to Hermione and happily accepted the offered chair, unable to keep himself from grinning as he met Severus’s eyes. He couldn’t wait to share the little secret he’d just learned.   
  
       “Why are you wearing such a ridiculous smile on your face?”   
  
       Harry's grin nearly split his face in two. “Congratulations, it's a boy.”   
  
       Ron jumped in with, “Or a snake.”   
  
       “Depending on who you ask,” Hermione finished as she settled Dorian into the seat next to Lisette.   
  
       Severus stared at Harry, his beetle-black eyes flecked with silver. “What the blazes does _that_ mean? And why are the three of you talking as if you share the same befuddled brain?”   
  
       “Nice way to talk to the fellow carrying your son,” Harry chastised him with a good-natured laugh, his announcement met with a gasp from Lisette, a smirk from Rauko, stares from Julian and Khiasa, and two loud barks from Padfoot.   
  
       Aside from the slightest widening of his eyes, Severus made no response to the happy news, but Harry could feel his mate's shock running like an electric current through their bond.   
  
       “We're having a son,” Severus said after what felt like an eternity of silence, as if saying the words out loud made them easier to digest. Shock turned to hesitant wonder, then to pure, warm affection as he reached down and placed his hand over Harry’s stomach, both of them experiencing the jolt of happiness that served as the baby’s response.   
  
       “How can everyone be so calm?” Julian pointed his fork at Severus as if he was singling out the wolf from a flock of sheep. “A miniature Severus is set to be loosed upon the world. There should be weeping and gnashing of teeth, not all this 'blessed event' poppycock.”   
  
       “Oh, I can make you weep, if that's what you really want,” Severus said in a dangerously low voice.   
  
       “Ron mentioned something about a snake,” Lisette said, successfully heading off a squabble between the two brothers. “What was that all about? Does it have something to do with that vision you had?”   
  
       Harry was surprised Lisette remembered. “Dorian said the baby was speaking parseltongue to him in his dreams, and he called the baby ' _loki_ , which Vala told me means snake.”   
  
       “Vala told you? He speaks to you?” Rauko sounded offended, though Harry couldn't figure out why.   
  
       “Focus, m'love,” Lisette chided him gently before turning back to Harry with a soft smile. “So the child has a snake familiar? That solves the mystery of your vision, then.”   
  
       “Well, almost. I still don't know who the voice was ...”   
  
       “Is it common for unborn Mori to speak animal languages?” Severus couldn't help but sound well-pleased that a son of his was a parselmouth, but there was also some concern to his tone.   
  
       “Is it common for a turned morion to become pregnant?” Rauko countered with a laugh. “Of course not! But that didn't stop our Harry, now did it?”   
  
       “No, it certainly didn't,” Severus murmured, a smile stealing across his lips as he looked over at Harry.   
  
       “Well, you know how much I hate to be normal like everyone else,” Harry said with a sardonic smile.   
  
       Severus leaned over, brushing his lips against Harry's and sending a delicious shiver through his body. [Normalcy is overrated.]   
  
       “Oh, get a room,” Julian complained right before he shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth.   
  
       “Why is everyone in such a horrible mood today?” Harry accepted his belladonna/tomato juice tonic from Lisette but declined the eggs and ham, choosing two pieces of plain toast and a bowl of fresh fruit instead. “First Dorian, then Severus, and now _Julian_? Anyone else find this a little strange? Isn't a grumpy Julian the first sign of the apocalypse or something?”   
  
       “I have always found Julian to be bad-tempered when he is frustrated,” Khiasa said matter-of-fact, garnering himself the attention of the room. He looked around the table at all the people staring at him and, misunderstanding their wide-eyed expressions, clarified his comment with the same humourless tone, “ _Sexually_ frustrated.”   
  
       “They knew what you meant the first time around,” Julian snapped.   
  
       “No talk of s-e-x during breakfast,” Lisette scolded, reclaiming her seat at the head of the table.   
  
       Dorian perked up, his big blue eyes looking around with curiosity; he was old enough to know that when a grown-up spelled things it meant he was missing out on something interesting.   
  
       Julian glanced at Dorian, somewhat penitent, then sighed and reached for his glass of milk. “I'm all out of conversation, then.”   
  
       The big black dog that had been watching the proceedings from a cushion on the floor (thoughtfully provided by Lisette) now rose from his corner of the room and padded over to Julian's chair, rubbing his head against his leg before sitting down on his haunches and resting his head on Julian's thigh.   
  
       Harry raised a brow. “That's a first.”   
  
       “He just feels sorry for me,” Julian said softly, reaching down to scratch behind the dog's ears, but it wasn't long before a mischievous smile crept its way back onto his lips, banishing the dark clouds that had been hanging over his head all through breakfast. “That, or he wants to lick my plate.”   
  
       Padfoot gave a low, harmless growl to let Julian know he was not amused, but he didn't abandon his position at Julian's side. After the first five minutes of watching Julian stroke his hand over Padfoot's dark fur, Khiasa pushed his chair back from the table with a loud, scraping screech and stood, his expression unreadable.   
  
       “If you will all excuse me, I will wait in my rooms until it is time for today's outing.” He bowed first to Rauko, then to Lisette, and finally to Harry, his hands pressed over his heart in a formal gesture of fealty. His parting words were to Hermione. “Let me know when you are ready to leave.”   
  
       “Leave? Where are you going?” Severus asked once Khiasa had gone.   
  
       Hermione's mouth opened and closed as she quailed under Severus's stern gaze, and she looked to Harry for help, pleading with her eyes for him to intervene. Harry hesitated, not as comfortable with their scheme as he'd been the night before. He didn't know exactly what Dorian had been talking about upstairs when he'd imparted the baby’s message of 'don't go,' but surely the timing of it all wasn't a coincidence. Then again, he also knew how important it was to get into that vault at Gringotts to see what else Culpepper had discovered over a lifetime of researching the Mori, and Hermione was right – the sooner they knew what they were up against, the better.   
  
       “They are going to a bank,” Rauko said, taking the choice out of Harry's hands. “A wizarding bank.”   
  
       “And who are _they_?” Severus folded his arms across his chest, turning his piercing black gaze on Harry.   
  
       Harry poked at a piece of melon in his bowl, concentrating very hard on his fruit as he tried to appear unconcerned with the way Severus was boring holes in his head with that laser-like glare. “See, this is where that favor comes in ...”   
  
       “No. Absolutely not.” Severus tapped his water glass with his wand and the liquid turned a deep, crimson color. He took a fortifying drink then went on to say, “We left Hogwarts so you would be safe. Did you really think for one second that I would let you waltz back into the wizarding world so soon? The Death Eaters want to destroy you and the Aurors want to arrest you and somewhere out there is a Malfoy who wants to make you his personal pet, and yet you want to go traipsing into Gringotts for ... what? To see what this Culpepper crackpot stowed away in a vault that probably hasn't been opened in decades?”   
  
       “He's hardly a crackpot,” Julian defended the old researcher.   
  
       The shadows around Severus seethed and roiled as he slammed his glass down on the table and glared at his brother. “I don't _care_ what he is, Julian. He isn't worth all this trouble, and he isn't worth risking the safety of my mate.”   
  
       “Harry's safety – the safety of all Mori – could be compromised anyway if Culpepper falls into the wrong hands. “ Hermione had recovered enough from her attack of nerves to put in her two cents, though she did flinch and look away when Severus turned his frightful glare back on her. “If we know everything he knows, it allows us to be prepared for any new attacks that might come our way.”   
  
       “She's right, Severus,” Harry said in a belated show of support for Hermione's plan. “We'll be in a public place with some of the best guardians the Mori have to offer. It's not as dangerous as it sounds. It's a bank, for Merlin's sake. It isn't as if we'll be marching into the Ministry.”   
  
       “Let Granger and Weasley go on their own, then. Why do they need you?”   
  
       Harry sighed and popped another piece of fruit into his mouth, chewing mechanically as he resigned himself to missing out on the trip to Gringotts. For the first time, he found himself fully appreciating the frustration that Sirius must have felt every time he was left behind while the other Order members were out fighting the good fight.   
  
       “Harry will need to visit his vault at Gringotts at some point, yes?” Rauko seemed determined to change Severus's mind. “He will have expenses in the future – clothing and other items for the baby, and clothing and necessities for the both of you as well. He should make this trip now, before his pregnancy makes it harder for him to appear in public.”   
  
       “We've managed fine without his money so far.”   
  
       Rauko leaned back in his chair, wine glass in hand, and shrugged his shoulders in what appeared to be gracious defeat.   
  
       “If that is how you feel, Severus, then we must abide by your judgment.”   
  
       Harry nearly choked on a piece of strawberry. Rauko was giving up?   
  
       _Wait for it_ , Vala said.   
  
       “You are right; Harry is your mate and your first priority is his safety and the safety of your child.” Rauko took a small sip of wine, savoring the flavor, then fixed his violet gaze on Severus as a mocking smile spread over his lips. “We can't expect you - a newly-turned Mori, a _fledgling_ \- to be strong enough to protect your mate from the dangers of the wizarding world. How refreshing to meet a Shadowclaw who knows his limits.”   
  
       Vala's dry chuckles echoed in Harry's stunned brain.   
  
       Severus's eyes narrowed to mere slits of ebony as he returned Rauko's cocksure grin with a thin smile of his own, a trace of gravel in his velvety-voice as he said quietly, “My ... _limits_?”  
  
       _Ahh, I anticipate bloodshed._   
  
       _Not funny_ , Harry said, but only because Vala's prediction seemed all too possible.   
  
       “That's quite enough of that,” Lisette intervened in her simple, delicate way, her voice soft enough to put a damper on the tension but firm enough to let them all know she meant business. “I don't believe any of us – least of all Severus – can begin to fathom the depths of his strength until that strength is tested. That said, I think this outing is a good idea for everyone involved. We should take advantage of these relatively carefree days while we can – I'm sure all of us can agree that dark times lay ahead.”   
  
       There were several nods of agreement from around the table, including a grudging one from Severus.   
  
       “If you would allow it, Severus, I would also like to take this opportunity to examine Harry again. There is a Mori-run clinic here in London that you could bring Harry to after he and the others visit Gringotts. I realize Muggle medicine can only tell us so much, but you would be getting your first look at the baby's growth and development, and nothing compares to the first time you hear the baby's heartbeat.”   
  
       Severus looked torn, wanting to concede to Lisette's request without letting Rauko feel like he'd won.   
  
       [We could ban Rauko from coming,] Harry said, correctly guessing Severus's dilemma and doing his best to resolve it. [I'm not sure he cares much about Gringotts, aside from wanting us to get Culpepper's research, but I'd bet every galleon I own that he wants to be there for the examination.]   
  
       Severus slowly turned to look at him, his frown fading to be replaced by a smirk. [Why that blasted hat didn't sort you into Slytherin, I'll never know.]   
  
       Harry just grinned and munched on a piece of toast while Severus addressed the rest of the room with his composure restored.   
  
       “I'll agree to it,” he said, much to the relief of those assembled, but then he glanced at Rauko with a dark gleam in his eyes as he added, “on one condition ...”   
  
  
  


* * * * * * * *

  
  
  
  
       Hermione dragged Harry upstairs as soon as breakfast was over.   
  
       “I have the perfect plan for how to get you into Gringotts unnoticed,” Hermione said as she pulled Harry into her room, making him sit down before she opened the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out a pair of long, white, woolen stockings. “Trust me. No one will know who you are after I'm done with you.”   
  
       She laid the stockings on the bed and walked over to the closet, searching through the skirts and slacks and blouses hanging there until she found what she was looking for: a green and blue plaid skirt, a plain white blouse, and a thick, green jumper. “Thankfully, you've got the legs for this, or else I'd have to stick you in a pair of jeans and what fun would that be?”   
  
       Harry stared at her, his eyes widening as he realized what her 'perfect plan' would entail.   
  
       Ron wandered into the room just as Hermione was laying the skirt out next to the stockings. “C'mon, Hermione, why are you changing your clothes? We're just going to Gringotts – can't you wear what you've got on?”   
  
       “ _I'm_ not going to wear this – Harry is.”   
  
       Ron gaped at her then quickly closed the door and threw himself against it as a barricade, just in case any curious adults came knocking. “Harry? Wear _that_? Are you mad? Pregnant or not, he's still a _boy_ , Hermione.   
  
       “I'm glad somebody noticed,” Harry said.   
  
       “I know he's a boy – _everyone_ knows he's a boy – which is why this is the perfect disguise. Don't you see? Who would be expecting Harry Potter to be a girl? No one, that's who. Anyone who saw you and me with a mysterious boy would have their suspicions, but if someone sees us with another girl, they aren't going to automatically think, 'Hmm, I bet that's Harry Potter parading around in that skirt.' No, they'll just see a pretty witch out with her friends, which is a completely unremarkable occurrence.”   
  
       Harry flinched at the words 'pretty witch' but Hermione seemed determined to carry out her plan exactly as she'd laid it out, whether Harry liked it or not.   
  
       _She ... really has thought about this a lot, hasn't she_ , Vala said in a voice nearly strangled with laughter, not so much amused by the idea of Harry dressing in girl's clothing as he was by Hermione's near-maniacal enthusiasm for it. _I'm sure all that green will bring out your eyes splendidly._  
  
       _Oh, sod off_ , Harry grumbled, shoving the spirit back into the farthest reaches of his mind.   
  
       “But ... a skirt? Is that really necessary?” Ron pushed away from the door and headed for the closet, rummaging through the hangers and pulling out trousers at random. “What about these? Or these? Now these here are a pair of perfectly lovely, girly, don't-make-you-think-'boy' trousers.”   
  
       He pressed the hanger into Hermione's hands but she promptly placed the trousers back in the closet, shaking her head. “No, it has to be the skirt. If we're going to disguise him, we should do a proper job of it. If we could use potions or glamours it would be a different story, but since we can't ...”   
  
       She dismissed the thought with an airy wave of her hand, a high-pitched giggle escaping her before she contained it behind her usual no-nonsense expression, smoothing her hair down with her hands as if she were somehow stamping down the obvious excitement building inside her.   
  
       “What about my hair?” Harry frantically searched for any excuse to abandon this plan before he lost whatever shreds of dignity he had left. “How are you going to fix that?”   
  
       Hermione pulled a large hatbox out from under the bed and placed it on a nearby chair. “I have it all figured out.”   
  
       “I hate it when she says that,” Ron muttered, and he gave Harry a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Shut your eyes and pretend you're somewhere else, mate. I'll let you know when it's over. Just consider yourself lucky she isn't forcing you into a pair of lacy knickers.”   
  
       “Who says I'm not?” Hermione flashed them both a devious grin, making it hard to tell if she was joking or not.   
  
       Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands.   
  
       Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver compact, walking towards Harry with a determined gleam in her eyes. “Now, first things first – we need to cover up that scar of yours.”   
  
       Harry closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and tried not to think about how hard Severus would laugh when he saw Harry's new 'disguise.'

 


	51. How To Seduce A Shadowclaw Without Even Trying

 

       “Hmm, do you think we should add some ... _padding_ to the jumper?”  
  
       “No.”  
  
       "What about a heeled shoe instead of the flats?"  
  
       " _No_."  
  
       Hermione pouted and flopped down into a chair near the door, heels in hand. Her wand, recently used to cast cooling charms on all the re-sized clothing to keep Harry (and the baby) from overheating, was tucked into the waistband of her skirt as if it was a tool in her tool-belt.  
  
       "You're sucking all the fun out of this, Harry."  
  
       "Good,” he said, irritable and uncomfortable as he scratched at his itchy legs. “These stockings are the worst, Hermione. Let me wear the trousers instead.”  
  
       “And have all my hard work be for nothing? I don't think so.”  
  
       “You know, I bet the stockings wouldn't feel so bad if you shaved your legs,” Ron suggested, trying to be helpful as he reclined on Hermione's bed.  
  
       “Oh!” Hermione's face lit up at the idea.  
  
       “Not. A. Chance.” Harry glared at both of them. “I went along with the skirt – for your sake it better not fly up and show off these damn knickers you forced me to wear – and then there's the frilly blouse and the _lipstick_. Isn't that embarrassing enough? I don't care if it feels like tiny ants are crawling up and down my legs, I have to draw the line somewhere and I absolutely refuse to – ”  
  
       Harry choked on his own words when the itching suddenly stopped, his legs tingling with the aftershock of a silent spell. He shoved one stocking down to reveal smooth, hairless skin. He touched trembling fingers to his leg, hardly able to believe what had just happened. Setting his mouth in a tight line, he yanked up the stocking and turned on his friends.  
  
       “Okay, which one of you did it?”  
  
       Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “It wasn't me, Harry. Honestly!”  
  
       "I wouldn't even know what spell to use,” Ron jumped in, his arms raised in mock surrender.  
  
       “Well, it wasn't _me_ ,” Harry said, so exasperated that he almost missed the green fireworks going off in his mind, those tiny sparkles of light that were part of the baby's unique language.  
  
       “Green lights, green lights,” he mumbled to himself, trying to remember what that meant.  
  
       “I think you broke Harry,” Ron whispered to Hermione. “I told you to let him wear the slacks.”  
  
       Harry remembered seeing those same flashes of bright green behind his eyelids while hunched over the toilet last week, suffering from an unexpected bout of morning-sickness. He recalled the anxiety he’d felt coming from the baby, a feeling akin to guilt, and he realized the baby was _apologizing_. The timing of it could only mean one thing. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, caught between a groan and a chuckle. This kid was already a trouble-maker and he wasn’t even out of the womb yet.  
  
       [I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to help, right?] Harry said, soothing his son’s fears. He rubbed his fingers against his still-tingling thigh then brought them up to his nose and sniffed; the scent of the spell was _his_. It had been cast with Harry’s own magic – but how had the baby managed it? Mind manipulation? If so, the baby was as sneaky as Severus and as powerful as Rauko. To Hermione, he said, “Never mind. It’s not a big deal. Now, what comes next?”  
  
       Hermione raised a brow at this sudden change of heart. She popped up from her seat and tossed the rejected heels onto the chair. “All that’s left is the wig. I need to cast a sticking charm on it so it won’t fly off while we’re zipping around in the bank’s tunnels.”  
  
       Harry slouched in front of the mirror. His back ached, his feet were starting to swell, and it felt like the baby was doing somersaults in his belly. Maybe this trip wasn't such a good idea after all.  
  
       _No, I'm going,_ he decided, a determined gleam in his eyes as he faced his reflection. _I didn't go through all this torture just to chicken out now._  
  
       He resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the dolled-up, scar-less teenager looking back at him. Though the makeup had covered the most distinctive feature on his face, it was his dimming, or lack thereof, that tricked the eye and infused Harry's face with the delicate, androgynous beauty that would fool outsiders into believing he was a girl. He kept his dimming at its minimal level, just enough to keep him looking human. He left the rest up to the eye shadow, blush, and lipstick that Hermione had carefully applied. The rosy glow of his cheeks and the vibrant red of his lips could have been achieved naturally, but Hermione had insisted on putting Harry through an all-out grueling makeover. He still wasn't sure if this disguise was for his benefit, or to satisfy some long-hidden fetish of Hermione's. He decided he was better off not knowing.  
  
       _I have to admit, she's done a good job._ He turned from side to side, the skirt swishing about with each twist of his body. The hem came to just above his knees due to his height, showing off a good deal of leg. He still wasn't sure how he'd let her talk him into wearing the knickers that were safely concealed beneath the skirt, but he did his best not to give that too much thought. The only article of clothing on his body that felt comfortable was the soft green jumper that Hermione had re-sized several times, making it bigger and bigger until it effectively hid Harry's small but round tummy. The unintended effect of wearing such a baggy jumper was that it made Harry look even younger than usual, and the sleeves fell a whole inch past his wrists, forcing him to continually push them up.  
  
       The sound of approaching footsteps distracted Harry from his reflection. He turned to Hermione with a wide-eyed look of panic.  
  
       “You locked the door, didn't you?”  
  
       Hermione frowned. “Why would I?”  
  
       The door swung open before Harry could grab his wand to lock it. Sirius walked into the room without so much as a knock, the sleeves of his robes shoved up to his elbows and a wild glint in his gray eyes.  
  
       “Do you know what Rauko has done? _Do you_? He went and made you his – ”  
  
       He stopped short when he saw how Harry was dressed. He blinked several times, leaning on the door-frame for support. When the sight before him didn't change, he turned on his heel and walked back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.  
  
       Harry's face turned bright red. His emotional state must have been dismal because Severus was suddenly in his mind, asking him what had happened. Harry gave a quick excuse and put up his barriers, determined to keep his new disguise quiet for as long as he could.  
  
       “Harry?” Sirius's voice was muffled by the door, but Harry could still hear the shock and confusion in his tone. “Is there something you want to tell me?”  
  
       Ron, who had managed admirably until now, couldn't hold it in any longer and promptly burst into laughter.  
  
       “Some help you are,” Harry snapped at him.  
  
       Hermione opened the door and pulled Sirius inside. She peeked out into the hallway then quickly closed the door and locked it with a tap of her wand.  
  
       “It's a little late for that,” Harry sulked.  
  
       “Why is it _my_ fault that Sirius doesn't know how to knock?”  
  
       “Would someone please tell me what is going on?” Sirius still looked spooked by what he was seeing.  
  
       “It's just a disguise. Hermione dressed Harry up as a girl,” Ron explained cheerfully. He, alone, had kept his good mood throughout the entire ordeal. “I'd say she did a right smart job of it.”  
  
       Sirius couldn't stop staring at the way the flared skirt showed off Harry's long, white-stocking-clad legs. “Disguise?”  
  
       “I told you this wouldn't work,” Harry said. “Sirius knew me right away.”  
  
       “That's because you weren't wearing this.” Hermione smoothed back Harry's hair and covered it with a stretchy nylon cap, then she fitted the long, black wig over it. Thanks to the sticking spell, it conformed perfectly to Harry's head and looked as natural as if it was his own hair, falling past his shoulders in lustrous black waves.  
  
       Ron studied Harry with a critical eye. “Definite improvement. You're practically a dead ringer for Aiya in that wig.”  
  
       “That's not much of a disguise,” Sirius butted in. He tore his gaze away from Harry's legs and focused on his face. “Tonks says there are wanted posters with sketches of Aiya's face on them plastered all over the wizarding community. Better change the color of his hair so the resemblance isn't so obvious.”  
  
       Hermione nodded and tapped the crown of Harry's head with her wand, changing the wig's color from black to a dark red. “How about now? We could say Harry and Ron are related this way.”  
  
       “Sure, you can be the sister I never had.”  
  
       “Ron, you _have_ a sister.”  
  
       “Well, I'm trading up.”  
  
       “I dare you to say that to Ginny's face,” Harry said with a grin. He looked over at Sirius for approval on the new hair color, only to find Sirius staring at him with a raw, wounded expression on his face. “Sirius? What's wrong?”  
  
       “I didn't realize ... I knew you had her eyes, but ... with the hair, you look just like ...”  
  
       Harry turned and looked at the mirror. The image reflected back at him appeared to be the teenage version of the girl in the picture he carried around – same long red hair, same vibrant emerald eyes. Even the shape of his mouth echoed that of a young Lily Potter, from that slightly pouty lower lip to the subtle upward tilt at the corners of the mouth, giving the impression that this was a mouth made for smiling. Harry felt a pang in his chest, rooted in sadness, yes, but also in something deeper, something instinctual that told him he did not want Severus to see him like this. He didn't want to look like the girl in the picture that Severus had kept all those years ...  
  
       “I think disguising myself as my dead mother is in poor taste,” Harry said, trying to brush off the odd feeling by being flippant. “Maybe I should go blond instead?”  
  
       “Blond is too ... _Malfoy_.” Ron adopted the same devil-may-care tone as Harry, though the thoughtful way he looked at his best friend indicated that he'd picked up on his Harry's discomfort. “Why not try a light shade of brown?”  
  
       Hermione complied, replacing the dark red with a sun-kissed golden brown. The warm shade complimented Harry's fair skin and brought out the green of his eyes.  
  
       “Ooo, I like this color,” Hermione said, clapping her hands together gleefully. “You look like a completely different person now.”  
  
       “It's a good disguise,” Sirius grudgingly admitted. He absently rubbed at his bruised neck, a recent habit he'd developed that manifested itself whenever he felt unsettled, but he dropped his hand back to his side when the far left corner of the room grew darker with shadows.  
  
       “Julian's coming in,” he stated flatly. It was almost as if Sirius had summoned him.  
  
       “The more the merrier,” Harry muttered. He steeled himself for the onslaught of teasing he was sure to get from his playful brother-in-law.  
  
       “Who's the new girl?” Julian asked as he bypassed the formality of knocking on the door and stepped out of the shadows instead, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. “Is she single?”  
  
       “Are _you_ single?” Sirius countered with a growl.  
  
       Julian's smirk widened into a pleased grin. “No. No, I don't suppose I am.”  
  
       Sirius grunted and turned away, his cheeks flushed with color. Ron and Hermione turned to Harry for an explanation, but he could only shrug. Though his friends knew that Julian was pursuing Sirius, the fact that the two had mated was a well-kept secret that only Harry, Severus, Lisette and the spirits were in on. It looked like Sirius was warming to the idea, so Harry felt confident that it wouldn't have to be a secret for much longer.  
  
       Julian gave Harry's disguise a thorough inspection, circling him twice before coming to a stop right in front of him. He seemed to get a kick out of seeing Harry in drag.  
  
       “Late bloomer, eh, Harry?” He teased as he patted Harry's flat chest.  
  
       “Quit groping my godson,” Sirius growled, jerking Julian away from Harry and pushing him towards the door.  
  
       Julian twisted out of his grip only to pull Sirius into his arms. “Oh, I see. You’d rather I grope you instead?”  
  
       “Don’t be an idiot.” Sirius drew his head back when Julian tried to kiss him. “Are you really going to assault me in front of the children?”  
  
       “Children?” Ron snorted. “Come on, it’s nothing we haven’t seen before, Sirius.”  
  
       Harry grinned and added, “Or _done_ before ...”  
  
       “Not another word,” Sirius said, glaring at Harry. “The last thing I want to hear about is what you’ve done with Snape.”  
  
       A knock on the door brought a tense end to the conversation. Khiasa's voice carried clearly through the wooden barrier as he politely asked, “May I come in?”  
  
       “Finally, a male with manners,” Hermione grumbled.  
  
       Sirius shoved Julian away and made a mad dash for the closet. For once, Julian's excellent reflexes were no match for Sirius's desire to get away, and he narrowly missed catching his arm before Sirius dived into the closet and slammed the door shut behind him.  
  
       “Does anyone else find his choice of hiding places as tragic as I do?” Julian asked with a bittersweet smile.  
  
       Harry gave him a sympathetic look while Hermione unlocked the door and opened it for Khiasa.  
  
       Khiasa's dark gaze fell on Harry as soon as he entered the room, but he gave no indication that he found Harry's outfit unusual in any way. Stone-faced as always, he executed a formal half-bow and addressed Harry with the same solemn respect he showed to Rauko. “Are you ready to leave, _Taren en amin_?”  
  
       Harry frowned. He really needed to learn more Elvish. For now, Julian would have to serve as translator. [What did he just call me?]  
  
       Julian chuckled. Khiasa's intense stare gravitated to the source of that husky sound, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he devoted five full seconds of his attention to Julian's beaming face before he remembered his purpose in being there and turned back to Harry, awaiting an answer.  
  
       [Khiasa is calling you by the traditional title for a high-ranking Evernight. As Rauko's adopted son, you'd better get used to it.] Julian looked delighted by the annoyed glare Harry sent his way. [You're so cute when you're angry. You and Sirius have that in common ...]  
  
       Harry rolled his eyes and looked back at Khiasa. “We'll be down soon.”  
  
       Khiasa nodded, stealing another look at Julian as he moved towards the door. “I will let the others know that you - ”  
  
       He paused mid-sentence, something dark and deadly flickering in his blacker-than-black eyes. He whipped around, his shadows swirling with the sudden movement. He breathed deeply of the many different scents mingling in the air before walking back into the room. His long legs carried him to the closet in a quick, menacing stride, and he turned the doorknob before anyone could open their mouths to stop him. He flung open the closet door ... and was nearly tackled by the large black dog that burst out at him. Sirius as Padfoot exhibited a confidence in his movements that had been noticeably lacking in the wizard himself lately, and he nimbly swerved around Khiasa and ran to Harry.  
  
       Khiasa stared at the empty closet, dumb-founded. Whatever he'd expected to find hiding in the closet, it certainly wasn't a dog. Julian walked over to Khiasa and heartily slapped him on the back with a congratulatory smile.  
  
       “Bravo, Khiasa! And here I thought Sirius would _never_ come out of the closet. How did you manage it? You _must_ tell me your secret ...”  
  
       Ron doubled over, his entire body shaking with the effort it took to contain his laughter. Harry kept his reaction down to a placid smile, though he felt a tickle in his own throat, one that grew harder to swallow as he glanced from Julian's sly grin to Khiasa's confused frown, the moment punctuated by Sirius's not-so-amused growls as he padded over to a corner to sulk.  
  
       “I just opened the door,” Khiasa said hesitantly, unable to see the humor in the situation. To him, Sirius was still just a dog, though seeds of doubt were beginning to take root in his mind. He took Julian's teasing without much of a fuss, quite unlike the volatile Sirius who continued to ignore everyone, his tail thumping against the floor as he stewed in his embarrassment. With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Khiasa seemed to settle the matter as Julian just being Julian and let the issue drop. “I will tell the others that you are almost ready to leave.”  
  
       He gave the shaggy black dog in the corner one last, baffled glance before he left the room, gently closing the door behind him.  
  
       Ron let loose, laughing so hard he almost fell off the bed. Harry joined in for a chuckle, though Hermione steadfastly refused to enjoy any joke that came at Khiasa's expense.  
  
       “Shouldn't someone tell Khiasa about Sirius?” she asked while combing out Harry's faux tresses into sleek, glossy waves. “It's not fair that he's the only one who doesn't know.”  
  
       Julian sighed, adopting a more serious expression as he took Hermione's admonition to heart. “Look, I tried to tell him about Sirius, but he didn't want to hear it. He thought I was making fun of him – with good reason, I'll admit – but you're right. It’s time he learned the truth. He isn't going to be happy about it, though.”  
  
       “Why?” Hermione put down the comb and started to put the finishing touches on Harry's outfit. “I don't see why he would care one way or the other.”  
  
       Julian and Harry exchanged a look. Sirius barked once then fell into a grumpy silence.  
  
       [Has Sirius given you an answer yet?] Harry allowed Hermione to fiddle with the hem of his skirt and secure his stockings with the green, lacy suspenders that matched his knickers (“Which is why you _have_ to wear the knickers, too,” Hermione had told him earlier, as if nothing was more logical. “They're a _set_. And you don't want your stockings to fall down, do you?”). He was relieved to be focusing on Julian instead of his own mortification.  
  
       [He says he needs more time,] Julian answered quietly.  
  
       [Then let's hold off on any announcements. I don't want him to feel pressured, and I don't want you to feel humiliated if things go sour.]  
  
       Julian nodded, teetering dangerously on the edge of melancholy, but he quickly pulled himself out of it and grinned at Hermione. “Khiasa isn't fond of surprises. He prefers to know everything he can about the people he has to protect.”  
  
       This answer appeared to satisfy Hermione. She slowly backed away from Harry, studying her 'masterpiece' now that everything was complete. “I think I'm done here. You look gorgeous, Harry.”  
  
       Ron smirked as he got to his feet and looked Harry up and down. “Hmmm ... leggy brunette. Definitely my type.”  
  
       “Lucky me,” Harry mumbled.  
  
       “A word of advice,” Julian said as everyone trooped towards the door. “Once we’re downstairs, try and keep your eyes off of Harry if you can help it.”   
  
       Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped and looked at him with identical expressions of confusion. Even Padfoot looked puzzled as he peeked up from his lounging position on the floor.  
  
       Julian shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think Severus will be ... _highly agitated_ after he gets his first glimpse of Harry. It would be wise to keep your distance.”  
  
       Harry shook his head in dismissal of Julian's warning and ushered everyone out of the room. “He's more likely to laugh himself to death than get angry with anyone. Let's just get this little outing over with so I can get out of these clothes.”  
  
       “They might be coming off sooner than you think,” Julian said in his sing-song, you're-going-to-regret-this voice, so quietly that only Harry could hear.  
  
       [You're mad. There is no way Severus would get turned on by seeing me in a skirt. A _skirt_ , Julian.]  
  
       [What's wrong with wearing a skirt? Besides, it shows off your legs,] Julian shot back with a grin, [not to mention that sweet arse of yours.]  
  
       A huge crash from downstairs put a quick end to their silent conversation. Julian winced and hurried on ahead with Padfoot hot on his heels. Harry's cheeks burned and his palms were suddenly sweaty. He wiped them self-consciously on the sides of the skirt. Julian was just teasing him ... wasn't he?  
  
       Severus barged into his thoughts with a ferocity that left him winded. [If my brother has been anywhere near your 'sweet arse,' there will be hell to pay.]  
  
       [Eavesdropping is a bad habit,] Harry said. It figured that Severus would only pick up on the part of the conversation that dealt with a part of Harry’s anatomy while completely missing the clothing aspect of it. He brushed off the jealous tirade as he trailed behind everyone else, reluctant to make his grand reveal. [Anyway, my questionably ‘sweet’ arse is yours and _only_ yours. Julian just likes to tease.]  
  
       [So do I,] Severus purred, sending Harry a brain-melting memory of how he'd painstakingly brought Harry off with just two fingers and the tip of his tongue the night before. [That's what worries me.]  
  
       [Don't put thoughts like that in my head,] Harry said, pausing to adjust the snug, satiny knickers he wore beneath the skirt. He longed for the roominess of his boxers and made a silent vow to burn the uncomfortable underwear once the day was over. [I'm in no position to enjoy them.]  
  
       [Are you sure you're alright?] Genuine concern had crept into Severus's voice, followed by angry assumptions. [Damn that Julian! Did he smack your bottom? Is that why you seem so uneasy? I've told him time and again to stop using that groping hand of his to say hello ... ]  
  
       Harry froze on the bottom step of the staircase. [Umm ... he's never touched my bottom. Ever. Which leads me to ask why you have to keep reminding him not to – ]  
  
       [I've seen him do it to the mutt,] Severus cut in quickly, his voice muffled by the addition of a few barriers between his mind and Harry's.  
  
       Harry grabbed onto the railing of the staircase and indulged in a few moments of smothered laughter, stomping his foot a couple of times as he envisioned a stunned and deeply affronted Severus rubbing his rump and cursing out his brother after a friendly, well-meaning slap to the arse from Julian. How many times had it happened, and how in Merlin's name had Harry missed out on it? He wanted to witness it at least once ...  
  
       [Quit laughing and get in here,] Severus snapped.  
  
       Harry expelled the last of his amusement in a long, shuddering breath, wiping tears from his eyes. He hoped he hadn't smeared his makeup, if only because Hermione would probably insist on touching it up and he didn't think he could sit through another session of dodging the mascara wand, terrified that Hermione was going to poke his eye out.  
  
       He walked down the hall towards the sitting room where everyone was congregating, acutely aware of the swish of the skirt against his legs coupled with a shiver-inducing draft that he had never experienced with trousers. He felt awkward and exposed, not quite sure how to carry himself in these new clothes. He worried about what would happen once he was outside the safe confines of Grimmauld Place. Did he need to change his walk? What about his voice? Would he be forced to adopt some fake falsetto for the duration of the trip? He pulled a face, not liking that option one bit.  
  
       _You showed less opposition to the knickers,_ Vala teased him, surfacing from the depths of Harry's mind where he'd been shoved after a similar jibe up in Hermione's room.  
  
       [No one can see the knickers,] Harry reminded him, [but everyone can hear my voice.]  
  
       _Fair enough._ Vala swam aimlessly in Harry's thoughts for a few seconds before warning him, _Try not to look at anyone but Severus when you walk into the room. The state he will be in after he sees you might lead him to act impulsively._  
  
       [Not you, too,] Harry groaned. [Why are you and Julian so convinced that Severus is going to jump me? Are all Shadowclaws hopelessly perverted or something?]  
  
       _Yes, it's our greatest virtue,_ Vala drawled, sounding so much like Severus that it sent a chill up Harry's spine.  
  
       [So you're a Shadowclaw too?] Harry wondered if that was why Vala and Severus seemed so similar to each other.  
  
       _Guilty as charged, so listen to me when I say that Severus will find your little outfit ... inspiring. It has nothing to do with the skirt and everything to do with how nice and shiny and **untouched** you look, like an innocent waiting to be ravished._  
  
       [Yes, nothing screams 'innocent' like a pregnant teenage boy in a skirt.]  
  
       _Actually, I think it's the white stockings._ Harry could hear the smirk in Vala's voice. He shoved him back into the dark recesses of his mind. Apparently, on top of being incessantly horny, Shadowclaws were also natural-born comedians.  
  
       He walked into the sitting room ready to smack the first person who taunted him over his outfit. What little conversation had been occurring before he arrived died into silence. Only Dorian seemed unaffected by the sight of Harry, perhaps because he rarely relied on visual clues to identify the people he loved. Everyone else appeared to be fighting the urge to grin, though Harry couldn’t see Severus’s face from where he stood. He bristled and went on the offensive.  
  
       “Yes, I’m disguised as a girl, which is why I'm wearing a skirt and a wig, and shoes that would surely cripple me if I had to wear them every day. The first person to make an oh-so-funny comment on how I look is going to get my wand shoved up their – ”  
  
       “Harry!” Hermione quickly cut him off, covering Dorian’s ears.  
  
       “Well, you see my point.”  
  
       “What I see is that you aren’t carrying your wand,” Rauko said with a merry sparkle in his eyes. “Does this mean my punishment will come later if I say how breathtaking you look? A real beauty. What do you think, Severus? Doesn’t our Harry simply glow in his clever disguise?”  
  
       “I am _not_ glowing,” Harry said as he sidestepped Rauko and walked towards the chair where Severus was sitting. He made it to within a few steps of his mate before he really got a good look at Severus’s expression, and it stopped him cold.  
  
       _Hunger_. Pure, animalistic hunger gleamed in those dark eyes that followed Harry’s every move, focusing on him with that jungle-cat intensity that always made Harry feel like the prey to Severus’s predator, never more so than now as Severus’s fingers dug into the arms of the chair he sat in, his shoulders hunched and his back tensed as he waited silently for Harry to come closer. His thoughts, projected at varying degrees of lucidity into Harry’s unprotected mind, were garbled but graphic, and entirely sexual in nature. He didn’t seem to be focusing on the skirt, though Harry’s legs – and the fact that anyone could enjoy the view of them – figured heavily into Severus’s inner dialogue.  
  
       So Julian and Vala were right after all. Not wanting to cause a scene should Severus jump him then and there, Harry backed up a step – a step that, as his bad luck would have it, landed him in Rauko's arms.  
  
       “Are you sure you want to go on this little outing?” he murmured into Harry's ear, sliding his hands around Harry's waist and hugging him back against his chest. “They don’t really need you. You could just stay here with me.”  
  
       Severus leapt to his feet, an unearthly growl torn from his throat by the sight of his mate in another morion's arms. It took Julian and Khiasa working together to wrestle him back into his seat. He struggled wildly against them, nearly throwing them off several times as he tried to break free, all the while snarling at Rauko with eyes completely swallowed by Darkness. Ron picked up Dorian and hurried out of the room with Hermione, rightly guessing that this was a situation best left in the hands of the Mori.  
  
       Lisette marched up to her husband and extracted Harry from his arms.  
  
       “You just earned yourself a week's accommodation on the sofa,” she hissed at Rauko, her blue eyes lit with fury, her Scottish brogue thickening as she chastised him. “It's going to be a long, lonely Christmas for you if you keep this up.”  
  
       Rauko crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the floor, hardly penitent but clearly unhappy at the prospect of being banished from his wife's bed. Under different circumstances, Harry might have laughed at the childish reaction; as it was, he was too busy calming Severus down, no easy task when his head was crammed full of his mate's fierce, feral presence. Though he couldn't touch Harry, Severus had found a way to assert his claim on him all the same, invading every nook and cranny of his mind, filling Harry's thoughts to the point of pain.  
  
       “S-severus, don't ... Rauko d-d-didn't me-mean ... y-you have t-to calm .... c-c-calm down.” Every time he tried to form a coherent sentence, Severus's stranglehold on his thoughts interrupted him or sidetracked him, rendering him a stuttering fool. Lisette realized the problem before anyone else. She gently took Harry by the shoulders and led him out of the room, ignoring Severus's increasingly loud growls of protest at their separation.  
  
       “Breathe deeply and slowly,” she said once they were out in the hallway. She placed one hand over Harry's belly to check on the baby while she tried to help Harry deal with the hostile occupation of his thoughts. “Don't fight him, it only makes it worse. Try and empty your mind of everything but him. That should help with the pain.”  
  
       Harry tried, he really did, but it was hard to clear his mind and have a Zen moment when the baby was competing with Severus for Harry’s attention. A frightened child and a feral mate did not make for a good combination. Harry sagged against the wall, his temples throbbing. Everything would have been fine if Rauko hadn’t tried to cuddle him. He hoped Lisette kicked Rauko out of bed for much longer than a week. He wanted ‘dear old dad’ to suffer.  
  
       Suddenly, Severus was gone and Harry’s mind was his own again. It happened so fast, so unexpectedly that it left him dizzy and disoriented, with only a fading headache and a recurring image of Severus flashing in and out of his thoughts like the signal from a lighthouse, which in the baby’s ‘language’ meant he wanted Harry to go find Severus.  
  
       Too woozy to act on his son’s request, Harry closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for support. “Whoa, what just happened?”  
  
       Lisette frowned and peeked into the sitting room. She shook her head in disbelief and turned back to Harry, taking him by the arm and leading him back towards the stairs. “Rauko and Severus are battling it out ... mentally, not physically, thank heavens. That should keep them both busy for a while and give Severus some time to cool down. Rauko will know how to handle him, though I hope Severus gives him a good fight. He deserves that and more for provoking Severus on purpose.”  
  
       “Why did he do it? What could possibly be the point of making Severus so mad?”  
  
       “He's testing him. Khiasa alone should have been more than strong enough to subdue Severus, yet it took _two_ powerful morions to hold him back, and even then he almost broke free of them. The best way to judge a Mori's strength is to force him into a feral state, so Rauko keeps pushing Severus past his limits. It's the worst sort of manipulation, and I promise to make him stop ...”  
  
       Harry pulled back, forcing her to look at him. “What is Rauko really planning? What does he want with Severus?”  
  
       A soft, wistful smile curved her lips, a touch of sadness in her eyes as she spoke. “He wants redemption.”  
  
       She refused to expound on her vague answer, instructing Harry to go upstairs and wait in his room until they were ready to go. As he walked down the second-floor hallway, he could hear Dorian and Ron engaged in a lively conversation about puppies while Hermione chimed in now and again in favor of cats, especially half-kneazles. Harry regretted that he had to leave Dorian behind, and in Rauko's care, no less, but having Sirius there as well eased his mind. No doubt Dorian would be ecstatic to spend the day with his 'doggy.'  
  
       He walked into the room he shared with Severus and looked around. Was it safe to leave his things unattended with Rauko prowling around? Aiya's gift was safe since only Harry knew how to access the memories inside it, but what about the photograph?  
  
       “This is where pockets would come in handy,” he grumbled to himself. Rifling through his schoolbag, he retrieved the photo and shrunk it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took off his right shoe and tucked the photo inside for safekeeping, then he squeezed his swollen foot back into the flat-heeled dress shoe. He was starting to understand why the words 'barefoot' and 'pregnant' went so well together, not to mention the newfound respect he felt for mothers everywhere. Pregnancy could be torture.  
  
       _It has its good moments, too,_ he thought as he lightly patted the bump beneath his sweater. The baby was growing bigger every day. Soon, Harry's condition would be too obvious to hide with clothes. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, wishing he wasn't quite so aware of the way the satiny material of his knickers rubbed against his cock and balls. _That_ was a torture, too, and one he hoped to rid himself of as soon as possible.  
  
       Julian's voice broke into the tranquility of his thoughts like a crack of thunder. [Harry, Severus is – ]  
  
       “ – right behind you,” that delightfully decadent voice whispered in his ear.  
  
       Harry gave a startled shout and turned around, glaring at Severus for scaring him. “Don't sneak up on me like that!”  
  
       Severus said nothing, and Harry realized that his eyes were still two pools of utter blackness, as if the Darkness had taken up residence inside of Severus and was peering out at Harry through those pitch-dark eyes. Whatever wild, deep-rooted instincts had taken hold of Severus earlier were still guiding his actions, though he'd moved on from jealousy and gone straight to seduction. He slowly backed Harry up against the wall, twisting his fingers into the golden-brown hair, drinking in the sight of Harry’s body, especially his long, stocking-clad legs. He released his grip on Harry’s hair so he could slide his hands down the front of the green jumper, pausing to gently stroke Harry’s stomach before continuing down his body. Harry rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, his breathing quickening as Severus’s fingers pulled up the hem of his skirt and snaked underneath.  
  
       His hands paused on Harry’s thighs as they brushed against the lacy suspenders. [What sort of naughty things are you wearing, Potter?]  
  
       The question shocked Harry out of his stupor and he batted Severus’s hands away. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”  
  
       [Oh? Then you’re naked under here?]  
  
       It was a little unnerving for Harry to see Severus staring at him with those fathomless eyes – but at the same time, the unmistakable hunger in their depths shot straight to his cock. He squirmed, finding it uncomfortable to be aroused while wearing such restrictive knickers.  
  
       “Of course not. I … I’m wearing … something.” Harry could feel his cheeks growing hot, unable to stop himself from blushing while being interrogated about his underwear.  
  
       [Show me.] Severus stood back. [Pull up that skirt of yours and let me have a look.]  
  
       Harry’s eyes flared a feverish blue-green, his face beet-red as he digested Severus’s husky command. This man had seen Harry naked numerous times, so why did he feel so shy about giving him a flash of those green knickers? There was something so dirty about it, but in that really good way that sizzled against every nerve in his body and had his cock straining to be free.  
  
       [Let me see you, Harry.] Severus’s voice was a temptation all its own, low and lyrical, thick with need. How could Harry help but submit to its persuasive charm?  
  
       He took the hem of his skirt in both hands and slowly lifted it, exposing his pale, smooth thighs, the lacy green suspenders that held up his stockings, and the matching knickers that fought to contain his growing erection, a few drops of precum seeping through and staining the material. He kept his eyes averted from Severus’s face, too embarrassed to look at him. Instead, he concentrated on the flurry of snowflakes that danced across the windowpane, holding onto that icy image even as a fiery heat consumed his body.  
  
       He flinched when two cool hands gripped his thighs, and he glanced down in surprise to see Severus kneeling in front of him, pressing his lips against the bulge in Harry’s knickers. There was only one word for the expression on his face: _ravenous_.  
  
       [Beautiful,] Severus whispered, his hands moving to cup Harry’s bottom and press him forward, forcing Harry to arch against Severus’s mouth.  
  
       “Ah! No … no, wait.”  
  
       [Hmm?]  
  
       “We really can’t do this right now. We have to go to Gringotts, remember?”  
  
       [I can be quick.] He sucked at Harry’s cock through the thin, satiny material, leaving a large wet spot on the front.  
  
       “Ngh, yes! Uh, I mean … no, we have to go now. You can … you can do whatever you want after we’re done at Gringotts. Mmm … so, ah! … so stop that …”  
  
       Severus pulled away and looked up at him. That terrible Darkness had left his eyes, but not the hunger. His sharp, intelligent gaze studied Harry’s flushed face, a cunning smile on his lips. “I can do whatever I want?”  
  
       Harry nodded frantically, ready to say just about anything to get them out of the bedroom. He could just imagine Ron or Hermione coming to fetch him, only to find Harry’s skirt up around his waist and Severus’s face buried in his crotch.  
  
       “Is that a promise?”  
  
       “Yes, damn it, I promise!”  
  
       Severus calmly rose to his feet, fixed Harry’s skirt so nothing unmentionable could be seen, and walked to the door. He opened it and waited for a few seconds before turning to look impatiently at Harry.  
  
       “Well, Potter? Are you coming or not?”  
  
       _He’s back to normal, at least_ , Harry thought, secretly disappointed, shuffling past his mate as he put a positive spin on Severus’s regression from Darkness-possessed sex fiend to all-around cantankerous bastard. Severus had always shown a remarkable ability to go from hot to cold and back again in the blink of an eye, and Harry only had himself to blame for the distinctly painful erection he sported beneath his skirt, since Severus had been more than willing to take care of it for him.  
  
       _I’ve got to stop making promises to him in sticky situations. They almost never go in my favor. Who knows what he’ll make me do once this trip is over?_ Harry pondered the possibilities, carefully shielding his mind’s detour into the gutter from Severus, but ultimately he decided he’d seen the last of Severus’s crazy animal lust. They would go to Gringotts, then Harry would have his check-up with Lisette, and by the time they got back to Grimmauld Place, all that need and hunger in Severus’s eyes would surely be gone _...  
_


	52. Unmasked

 

     It was hard for Harry to trust in Hermione's sticking charm when every twist and turn through the tunnels under Gringotts seemed destined to rip the wig off of his head and expose his identity. Under ordinary circumstances, Harry would have relished the dizzying ride through the shadow-infested tunnels, basking in the dank darkness all around him, but the jerky motion of the cart had him swallowing hard against the rise of bile in his throat. Between worrying that his hair was going to fly off his head and struggling not to vomit, Harry didn't have time to enjoy the trip.

     "Harry, your dimming," Hermione whispered to him as she helped him out of the cart. "It's starting to fade."

     Harry groaned and closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was feed, even on a shadow, but he dutifully absorbed a small one that had curled itself around his ankle during the ride. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth as his stomach threatened to revolt, never mind that he hadn't actually eaten anything, but the feeling quickly passed now that he had his feet on solid ground again. He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione, his voice gentle and high-pitched as he asked, "Better?"

     She nodded as the goblin attending them used Hermione's key to open the door to Culpepper's vault. "Perfect."

     Harry adjusted the scarf around his neck so it wouldn't feel quite as constrictive against his throat then shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat and followed Ron and Hermione into the vault. His steps were quick and light with only the slightest sway to his hips, though not through any conscious effort on his part. The walk and the voice were both on loan from Lisette, channeled into his brain from the lady herself, though he felt nothing of Lisette's actual presence. He'd expected to have her right there inside his head, directing him and guiding him, but other than a few light touches to his temples and a long look into his eyes back at Grimmauld Place, Lisette hadn't imposed herself on Harry at all.

     He stepped through a thin layer of magic as he passed through the vault's doorway, yet another invisible net meant to catch intruders. He'd felt several of them on their way to the vault, ghosting over his skin like cobwebs and leaving a distinctly bitter taste in his mouth. Severus had anticipated those wards and how they would interfere with travel through the void, hence Harry's current shadowless state. Hermione and Ron had been happy enough to enter without their bodyguards, figuring Gringotts was safer than most places, but for Harry, the lack of Severus's warm weight in his shadow made him uneasy.

     [Tell Granger to make this quick,] Severus said, his voice strangely muffled. Though he was just as apprehensive as Harry, his anxiety had been converting to hostility, and every minute that ticked by with still no sign of Harry made his mood plummet even more. 

     [I'm sure it won't take us long to -- ] Harry's breath caught in his throat at the sight that greeted him in Culpepper's vault. Pile upon pile of parchment littered the floors, some of it stored in boxes but most of it stacked in haphazard piles that stretched well above Hermione's head. He felt as if he'd wandered into the old wizard's private study, complete with a large desk and several worn armchairs. Paintings leaned against the walls of the vault, most of them damaged in some way, including a family portrait where the majority of the family members crowded together on one side of a large tear down the middle of the canvas, with a lone child trapped on the other side, tearfully sucking his thumb. 

     Ron stared in disbelief at the mountains of parchment. "This can't _all_ be about the Mori, can it?"

     "It has to be," Hermione said, her voice rising an octave with excitement as she ran from one shaky mound to the next. She clutched a patchwork valise in one hand, another gift from Lisette. It would hold whatever they decided to take from Culpepper's vault and never get heavier, and was roomy enough for them to include the desk and chairs if they'd wanted them. "Look at all of it. Isn't it wonderful?"

     "Yes. Wonderful." Harry didn't want to put a damper on Hermione's spirits, but it disturbed him that Culpepper had acquired this much research on the Mori. He'd expected a few books full of notes, sure, but _this_? This level of research indicated more than a harmless hobby. He was starting to think Severus was right to question Culpepper's mental stability. "How much do you want to take?"

     Hermione looked at Harry as if _he_ was the crackpot. "We can't leave any of it behind. What if we miss something important?"

     [So much for making it quick,] Harry said, raising his barriers ever-so-slightly to quiet Severus's snarling response to a dull roar. He forced a smile at Hermione. "All of it, eh? Well, while you guys take care of that, I'm going to ask the goblin something."

     "Oh sure, leave _me_ to be her slave labor," Ron grumbled.

     "Don't worry, I'll reward you," his girlfriend said with a sly smile before she went back to inspecting the piles of parchment.

     Harry chuckled and stepped out of the vault, resisting the urge to bat away that flimsy curtain of magic that hovered in the doorway. The goblin stood waiting for them to finish their business, his puckish face schooled into a professional but obviously bored expression. Harry pulled a small golden key out of his coat pocket, intent on asking the goblin if they could pass by his own personal vault next. 

     "Was there something you needed, Miss?" he asked as Harry approached him.

     "Yes, I ..." 

     Harry squinted his eyes as a vision of Dorian's face assaulted his mind, accompanied by echoes of that morning’s desperate plea: _Don't go. He says don't go._

     The goblin looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for an answer. 

     Harry clenched his fingers around the key. The warning was too obvious to be ignored. He hid his hands behind his back and gave the goblin a sheepish smile. "No, there was nothing else." 

     He went back into Culpepper's vault and sat on a dusty armchair, his legs splayed in a most unladylike manner as he stared dazedly at Ron and Hermione packing away years of dedicated research into Lisette's patchwork valise. He kept fiddling with the key, turning it over and over in his hands, lost in the riddle of why the baby didn't want him to enter his own vault. No matter which way he looked at it, it didn't make sense. What possible dangers could be lurking in a place that only Harry could access? The piles of research kept shrinking until there were only a few left, but Harry still wasn't any closer to understanding the warning he'd been given. 

     Severus intruded on his troubled thoughts, his voice gruff but concerned. [What’s wrong?] 

     Harry slid the key back into his coat pocket. [It’s probably nothing, but I’m skipping the detour into my vault. I think I’ve got some galleons stashed away in my room at Grimmauld Place, so we should be fine for a while.]

     [Money and our grievous lack of it is not what I’m most concerned about right now. Are you three anywhere close to being done in there?]

     Harry glanced back over at Ron and Hermione shrinking the last of the boxes. [Shouldn’t be much longer. Hermione is going to have her hands full going through all this research. Culpepper wasn’t just interested in the Mori, he was _obsessed_.]

     [That seems to be a recurring theme these days. Let’s hope that he and Lucius aren’t comparing notes as we speak.]

 

 

********************************

 

 

     "You're walking lopsided," Harry said with a laugh as he followed Ron and Hermione into the bank's lobby where an influx of wizards and witches filled the room with the sounds of lively chatter and rustling robes. Though Lisette had promised that the bag wouldn't feel any heavier, Hermione's posture had a definite slant to starboard as she carried the valise containing all of Culpepper's research.

     Ron grabbed onto the handle so that the two were now carrying it between them. Hermione straightened her shoulders with a grateful sigh. 

     "I can't wait to get back to headquarters," she said, starry-eyed at the thought of diving into the vast amount of research that had been shrunk and stuffed into the small bag.

     "I can," Ron said with a roll of his eyes. No doubt he was envisioning himself being the one forced to help Hermione sort through the endless stacks of old parchment.

     Harry started to laugh but choked on the sound, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Neither Ron nor Hermione noticed when he stopped short in the middle of the lobby, struck immobile by the unexpected and irrational fear that gripped him. He looked around, wondering if he was picking up on someone else's emotions. He didn't notice anything odd at first, but then a tall, blond wizard in expensive forest green robes swept by him and forced his way to the front of a nearby queue.

     Severus reached out to him, easing his fright with just the barest brush of his voice against Harry's mind. [What is it? Are you in pain?]

     [It's Lucius,] Harry said, hating that he sounded so scared. Honestly, what was it about Malfoy senior that made his instincts go haywire? [He's _here_ , Severus. He's only a few feet away.]

     Sensation slowly returned to Harry's limbs, freeing them from their useless state, but he lingered long enough to catch a short exchange between Lucius and the goblin teller.

     "Has Potter's vault been opened?" 

     "No, sir. There has been no sign of Mr. Potter, and we have his vault under constant surveillance. If anyone had tried to open it, especially Mr. Potter, that person would be in custody right now." 

     Lucius cursed and turned around, scanning the lobby with a frustrated glare. "He's here. I _know_ he's here. Aleksei is never wrong ..." 

     Harry ducked his head and walked quickly towards the large bronze doors that lead out of the bank. Where were Ron and Hermione? He'd lost them in the crowd. Had they seen Lucius, too? Either way, it was probably better that they'd been separated. The average wizard wouldn't be suspicious of Ron and Hermione running around with an unknown girl, but Lucius might make a connection. 

     [I can't believe he wrangled the goblins into turning my vault into a trap.] Harry walked out of Gringotts and into the comforting chill of a brisk winter wind. The sun had emerged from behind a curtain of thick, gray clouds, intent on making an appearance, no matter how brief, but Harry ignored the vague irritation of warm sunlight against his face. [What could he possibly be bribing them with to make them cooperate?]

     [Goblins aren’t known for being cooperative when it comes to wizards, bribe or no bribe. I think it’s safe to assume the Ministry is involved this time,] Severus said as he sank into Harry's shadow, the calm timbre of his voice belying the fury and tension that tainted his every thought and emotion. He was obviously just as shocked as Harry to see Lucius at Gringotts. [Before you ask, Granger and Weasley are with Khiasa. They should already be on their way back to headquarters. Julian went off to investigate a ‘funny feeling’ he has, but we are _not_ waiting for him. Hurry up and get into the void.]

     [I’m standing in the middle of the pavement! Give me a minute to find a handy shadow, will you? There are too many people around for me to summon one.]

     [None of these self-involved twits will notice anything.]

     Harry blamed Severus's lack of caution on nerves and resisted the urge to cave in to his demands. They'd come this far without causing a commotion. If Lucius was occupied with looking for Harry inside the bank, surely they could spare a minute or two to find a proper place to vanish into that wouldn't become front page news in the Daily Prophet.

     Just as Harry started to walk away from the bank's front steps, a familiar-looking young man hurried past him towards the brass doors. A young man that looked exactly like the Ravenclaw Quidditch team's best beater ...

_It couldn't be him,_ Harry told himself, but he called out to him anyway, forgetting in that split-second decision that he was dressed as a girl and would be completely unrecognizable to anyone who knew him.

     "Rhys? Rhys!" 

     The young man turned and Harry immediately realized his mistake. This person was tall but wiry, lacking Rhys's broad shoulders and athletic build. He had the same reddish-brown hair, cropped and neatly trimmed, framing a thin face and fine, aristocratic features, but his eyes were a darker, denser shade of brown ... 

     Harry stiffened. He knew those eyes. He'd seen them twice before: once in the dungeons, and most recently in his nightmarish vision. Both times, he'd seen those eyes in other people – first Lyr, then Julian – but here they were set in a face he didn't recognize. The baby tugged so hard on their connection that Harry's vision went black for a good five seconds, his child's fear wrapping around him like a shroud, gravely tangible and oppressive. He splayed his fingers over the small bump hidden beneath his clothes in a protective display that went unnoticed by the man walking back towards him. 

     "Do you mean Rhys Wynford? He's my brother," the man said with a bewitching smile that had probably charmed hundreds of witches and wizards over the years. He spoke smoothly with only the faintest trace of an accent sharpening his consonants. Now that Harry had a closer look at him, he appeared to be in his late twenties, stylishly dressed in long, sweeping sapphire robes embroidered in silver. His eyes, almond-shaped and just a few shades shy of black, were deceptively warm at first glance, but beneath the illusion of kindness the man’s gaze was cold and shuttered. "We're often mistaken for each other by friends and even by a few of our relatives. My name is Aleksei." 

     [Walk away, Harry. _Now_.]

     Severus felt alarmingly solid against Harry’s back. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing, much to his relief. [I can't just run off. Won't he find it suspici-]

     [ _Go!_ ] Severus’s command struck Harry’s mind like the lash of a whip.

     "I’m sorry for the mistake," Harry gasped before he turned to make an immediate retreat, ignoring Aleksei’s confused protest for him to stay. A sudden and suffocating terror seized his body out of nowhere, so different from the dull ache of apprehension that Aleksei's presence had inspired in him. It only took him two steps and a clumsy slip on the icy pavement to learn the source of that terror as he fell straight into enemy hands ...

     "My, my, what is the young lady’s hurry?" Lucius asked with a smirk, holding Harry tightly by the shoulders to prevent his fall. "Don’t tell me your famous charm has failed you this time, Aleksei? What could you possibly have said to make her run away like this?"

     "As embarrassing as it is to admit, I’m afraid I only got so far as telling her my name." There was an alertness in Aleksei’s expression now that Harry first mistook for suspicion, but he soon realized that all of Aleksei’s considerable focus was directed towards Lucius, like a predator keeping a close eye on its hunting companion to make sure it isn’t cheated out of its share of the kill. Through it all, his easy smile and disarmingly pleasant tone never wavered. "She thought I was Rhys."

     "I see." Lucius relaxed his grip on Harry’s shoulders but didn’t let go. His fingers began a gentle massage, far too intimate a gesture from an older wizard to a young teenage witch who wasn’t related to him, and whose name he didn’t know. Harry gritted his teeth and prayed his dimming lasted long enough for him to get away. "Are you good friends with Rhys? You look young enough to be a student at Hogwarts, so why aren’t you in school right now Miss – ?"

     "Elspeth," Harry found himself answering, quite unintentionally. In fact, once he’d opened his mouth, words just began spilling out, all in that soft, airy voice he’d ‘borrowed’ from Lisette. He could even hear snatches of her Scottish brogue tripping off his tongue. "Elspeth Fairholm." He ducked his head shyly, but it didn’t feel natural – more like how he imagined a marionette would react when its strings were being pulled. "I’ve never been good at magic. My parents decided it would be a waste to keep me in school. I used to get teased a lot, but Rhys was always nice to me. Is it true that he disappeared? I didn’t want to believe it, but I heard ..."

     "Did you? I thought we did remarkably well in keeping it quiet." Lucius gently brushed a lock of hair from Harry’s cheek then stroked his fingertips over his pale skin, tracing Harry's jawline. A glimmer of surprise lit his cold, gray eyes as he did so, as if he couldn't understand his own desire to keep touching Harry. It made no sense for a wizard like Lucius, so stuck on appearances and shamelessly prejudiced, to be openly flirting with a supposedly underage, self-confessed 'defective' witch in broad daylight. 

     [I'm going to rip his hand off if he doesn't stop touching you,] Severus growled.

     For his part, Harry did his best not to cringe away in revulsion. The strange feeling of being disconnected from his body helped him to remain passive in the face of Lucius's unwanted attention. He gave every outward impression of being sweet and reserved, but on the inside he was wondering what the hell was going on with his own body. He could hear Severus muttering incredulously about Lucius’s erratic behavior, but Harry’s priority at the moment was cutting the conversation as short as possible and doing a disappearing act of his own.

     Aleksei had taken to looking around again while Lucius talked with Harry, but now he turned back to them both with a strained smile. "I believe Mr. Malfoy means that we didn't want to alarm anyone, especially my mother. If she thought Rhys was in danger, it would severely affect her health. Mr. Malfoy is working closely with the Ministry on this matter, so you can trust that he will do whatever he can to make sure my brother comes home safely. More to the point, Lucius, don’t you think we should attend to our business here? Who knows how long this opportunity will last before our quarry slips away."

     The hand stroking Harry's cheek twitched and Lucius pulled away. The strong scent of a recently cast spell wafted through the air, but Harry couldn’t identify its source. 

_Ahh, what delicious irony_ , Vala said, emerging from the back of Harry's mind as if waking from a deep sleep. _Their quarry is right in front of their eyes and they are oblivious to it. Well done, Harry. Hmm, but I think Severus might do something reckless if you don't extricate yourself from this situation immediately._

     "He isn't inside," Lucius said in a dull, distracted voice, his gaze still locked on Harry, but he spoke as if Harry wasn't there. Again, Harry sensed Severus's puzzlement over Lucius's lack of discretion. "His vault hasn't been touched. You were wrong this time, Aleksei."

     Aleksei's artificial smile slipped for an instant. "Ridiculous. Do you think he'd walk around in the open now that even the Ministry is hunting him? He's here, it's just a matter of finding him. If only I'd had time to use a more powerful tracking spell ..."

     [What are you just standing there for?] Severus hissed at Harry. 

     "I should be going. I hope you find Rhys," Harry heard himself say. He backed away a few steps but Lucius grabbed his wrist. 

     "What about you, Miss Fairholm? Aside from mistaking Aleksei for Rhys, have you seen any familiar faces today? Another schoolmate, perhaps?"

     "Me? No, I only thought I saw ..." Harry's gaze naturally turned to Aleksei, whose dark eyes were now ablaze with interest as he peered more closely at Harry's face.

     "Why are you so fixated on her?" Aleksei asked Lucius, no longer treating Harry as part of the conversation but merely as an object to be discussed. There was something cold and methodical to his voice now, a clinical detachment that sounded hollow to Harry's ears. "You aren't the sort of wizard to form fast attachments, Lucius, so what makes Miss Fairholm so special? Shall we ask her why she is at Gringotts, today of all days? Is there something hidden behind those innocent eyes that would be worth discovering?"

     Harry's cheeks blushed a becoming pink and he stammered softly, "P-please, I don't know w-what you mean ...," but these reactions were not his own. The overwhelming instinct to run away was being suppressed by some outside force.

     Aleksei peered into his eyes, and Harry felt the gentle nudge of legilimency against his heavily-fortified barriers. Aleksei's eyes narrowed, his suspicions roused even further, having met resistance from a mind that, according to what Harry had told him, he should have instantly possessed. 

     "Never been good at magic, you said?"

     Harry could feel Aleksei pushing harder, testing the strength of the barriers in Harry's mind, but resisting him was effortless this time – nothing like the time in the Potions classroom when Lyr had used legilimency to goad Harry into pushing back. 

     "No, never." There was a quaver to Harry's voice that implied fragility, convincing enough to fool Lucius, at least, since he softened his grip on Harry's wrist.

     "I only thought she might have seen something. She obviously doesn't know anything, and why should she? You heard what she said. She's practically a squib," he said, his voice icy and aloof once more, but even his recovery from whatever spell he'd been under wasn't enough to sway Aleksei from his impromptu investigation of this 'Elspeth' and her impenetrable mind.

     "This is no squib." A manic gleam replaced the coldness in Aleksei's eyes, the expectant glee of a child about to unwrap a Christmas present. "This is something altogether different. I want to examine her further, after we've finished our business here. I'll even let you play with her a little after I'm through with her."

     Harry's eyes widened in horror, able to exhibit the proper shock and disgust without any prompting from whoever or whatever had been pulling his strings so far. A funny little smile curved Aleksei's lips as he drank in Harry's expression, as if telling a young witch of her impending violation was just as fun for him as indulging in the act itself. As soon as Harry saw that sadistic grin, and felt the successive jolt of recognition from Severus, he knew that at least one mystery had been solved. Aleksei was undoubtedly the wizard who had attacked Severus on Halloween. 

     Lucius tilted his head, a congenial smile on his lips as he nodded to passers-by, keeping up the pretense of a friendly chat while talking under his breath to Aleksei. "I've seen what your leftovers look like. I'd rather enjoy my share of Miss Fairholm _before_ you question her."

     He knew it wasn't rational, but Harry felt a surge of righteous anger for the plight of this imaginary Elspeth Fairholm, this vulnerable persona he'd taken on. Was this the sort of thing these two got up to regularly? How many innocents had they damaged and destroyed? Callie's anguished face flashed in Harry's mind and he jerked his wrist out of Lucius's grip. Magic, dark and deadly, pooled in his fingertips, weighing down his hands until the need to unleash it grew unbearable. He could feel the echo of that murderous rage in Severus, protective instincts pushed to their limits ... any second now, all their hard-fought control would be tossed aside and their covers would be blown ...

     "Ah, here you are, darling," Julian crooned as he appeared out of nowhere to slide his arm around Harry's waist. He leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You shouldn't go wandering off on your own like that." 

     Harry sagged against Julian in relief, his hands trembling from the residual magic that continued to pulse just beneath the skin. He could feel the crackle of Severus's frustration as Julian hugged Harry closer to his side, but this time reason won out over instinct and he didn't command Harry to pull away.

     "Hard to keep an eye on this one," Julian continued on with a sunny smile, never missing a step though lesser men would have quailed under the imperious scowl that Lucius was now directing his way. Aleksei simply stared at Julian with wide, unblinking eyes, as if mesmerized by the sight of him. He appeared lost and childlike, so different from the wizard who had coolly talked of forcing information out of Harry, most likely with torture, before handing him over to Lucius for 'playtime.' "She sees something she fancies and runs after it without another thought. Not the brightest witch, I suppose, but she more than makes up for it in looks, don't you agree?"

     [Hey!] Harry glared at him. [Quit ad-libbing and get me out of here!]

     "Especially when she's angry," Julian said softly, a devilish smile on his lips. He looked up and his expression changed to one of surprise. He pointed over Lucius's shoulder at a lone figure walking in the distance. "Wait, isn't that Harry Potter?" 

     Lucius and Aleksei quickly turned and scanned the horizon in the direction that Julian had pointed. Julian took advantage of the distraction to shove Harry forward into the pool of shadows cast by the two wizards' bodies. A pair of hands shot up out of the dark mass and grabbed Harry by the ankles, dragging him down into the cool shadows of the void with a speed that left him breathless. 

     Severus slid his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him close, with Harry's back pressed against his chest. The dark energy that had filled Harry's hands quickly dissipated, leaving him shaken but in control of himself once more. Severus bent his head and nuzzled Harry's neck, with only a hint of teeth to alert Harry to the darker instincts that were clawing at his mate's insides. Severus had been showing an increased interest in Harry's throat, no more so than at times of duress, but Harry doubted that this was the proper time to indulge Severus's Shadowclaw urges.

     [I would never have let them hurt you,] Severus said, his voice tight with the pain of holding himself back for so long. [I shouldn't have let them go. I can still go back ... hit them when they aren't expecting it.]

     Harry understood that feeling of regret. It coursed through his veins, replacing the anger that had seized him just before Julian swooped in to the rescue.

     [They wouldn’t have expected me to attack them, either. I could easily have killed them both. Why didn’t I?] It was the first time Harry had ever felt guilty for _not_ choosing violence to solve a problem ... or in this case, two very big, very dangerous problems. Who knew how many innocent people Harry had just condemned to be tortured or worse by Lucius and his apparent partner-in-crime? His hands trembled with an aftershock of that deadly dark energy.

     [The way it happened is how it was supposed to happen,] Julian argued rationally as he joined them in the void. [Besides, murder is bad for the baby. That little guy Harry's carrying is more sensitive than you might think ...]

     Harry let out his breath in a whoosh. He hadn't given a single thought to how his actions would affect the baby. 

     Julian continued on, letting the seriousness slip out of his voice. [... and anyway, it's fine now, since I saved the day with my quick thinking and boyish good looks.]

     [What did your _looks_ have to do with it?] Severus snapped.

     [I just can't believe it worked,] Harry said, referring to the classic 'look over there' fake-out that Julian had used to get them out of an increasingly risky situation. [The simultaneous head turns, the eager looks on their faces - if I hadn't been so afraid of being caught, I would have laughed.]

     [The circumstances helped,] Julian admitted. [If they hadn't been looking for you so relentlessly, I doubt they would have fallen for it.]

     Severus shook his head. [Lucius wasn't himself. He seemed distracted …]

     [Can you blame him? Our Harry is a real head-turner.]

     [ _My_ Harry,] Severus corrected Julian, though his voice lacked any heat or jealousy. [And his obvious and understandable attraction to Harry doesn’t explain the way he interacted with the other wizard. This Aleksei seems to have a strong hold on Lucius, too. Then again, Lucius always did have a weakness for pretty faces …]

     Julian smirked. [So, Malfoy has good taste when it comes to younger men. What’s your point?]

     [I think I know what he means,] Harry said. [Something was different about Lucius. It was as if he’d lost his focus.]

     [I still think Harry is to blame for that,] Julian teased.

     [All the more reason to keep Harry out of the wizarding world from now on.] Severus tightened his arms around Harry’s waist. 

     [I think you’re both overestimating my appeal. Can we put the serious talk on hold for now? I really want out of these clothes. I think they're starting to infect me.] Harry still couldn't figure out what had come over him while he was talking to Lucius. It was as if he'd lost control of his own body ... or had his instincts simply taken over, doing what was necessary to keep his true identity from being discovered? 

     Severus quickly unbuttoned Harry's coat and slid his hand inside, delving beneath the baggy jumper as he tugged at the white blouse beneath it, untucking it from Harry's skirt. [I want you out of these clothes, too.]

     [Ooo, do I get a vote?] Julian asked with typical bright-eyed eagerness, only to be shoved off towards the dark unknown by Severus's free hand. 

     [No. Go away.]

     [You are such a killjoy.] 

     [Better a killjoy than an idiot.]

     [Ignorance is bliss, Little Brother.]

     [So is silence. You should try it.]

     [We're going to be late for our appointment with Lisette,] Harry said, grabbing Severus's hand that was inching up his chest and pulling it out from under the white blouse. [Julian, fill the others in on what we've learned. If Aleksei is Lyr that means the enemy already has Culpepper. We need to make some decisions about what to do next.]

     [Mmmm .... Harry's taking charge. I like it.] The saucy lilt to Julian's voice earned him another, harsher shove from Severus. [Yes, fine, I'm going already. No need for violence.]

     [There is _plenty_ of need for it.] 

     All the anger and anxiety that had been building inside of Severus during Harry's run-in with Lucius and Aleksei was starting to break loose, with Julian the likely target of his temper. Harry knew the best thing to do was get the two away from each other before a real fight broke out.

     [Let's go,] he said, taking Severus's hand and walking in the direction his shadows were pulling him. It seemed strange, doing something as normal as going to the clinic for a routine check-up after running into Lucius and learning the true identity of Xander Lyr, but Lisette had been adamant that she examine Harry and the baby as soon as possible. If anything, it would give Severus time to calm down ...

     Severus leaned over to nuzzle Harry's neck. [I wonder how sturdy those examination tables are ...]

     Apparently, the day's adventures were far from over.

 


	53. Nobody's Saviour

 

     For all his talk of wanting to get out of his clothes, it became Harry's sole mission on the trip to the clinic to keep Severus from doing the job for him. He worried that if he let Severus have his way, he'd be walking bare-arsed into the clinic with only his white stockings and the long, brown wig as covering.

     [As if I'd let anyone else see you naked,] Severus grumbled, though his hands told a different story as they tried for the fifth time to pull Harry's skirt up around his waist.

     Harry shoved his hands away and smoothed down the skirt. Walking in the void felt like marching in place, unable to mark distance or speed as they travelled through the black expanse, so he could understand Severus's impatience. He recalled Aiya telling him once that the shadows could whisk a Mori from one continent to the next faster than apparition, or they could stretch what would have been a quick hop from one side of a city to another into a leisurely stroll. An older, stronger Mori like Rauko could manipulate the void to his heart's content, but the majority of the race were left at the mercy of their formless companions whose haste or caution seemed to fluctuate with their masters' emotions. Harry, whose feelings were perpetually in chaos due to his pregnancy and the war and just plain exhaustion, decided it was probably his fault that the shadows were dragging their heels.

     [I'm not having it off with you in the void,] Harry said with an air of calm refusal that shocked them both. His typical response in a situation like this would be more heated, but he sounded perfectly rational and even a bit amused. 

_I must be tired_ , he thought, holding his silence for a few steps in case it all had been a fluke, then adding in that same quiet tone, [Wait a little longer and I'll let you do whatever you want.]

     Severus prodded at his mind, confused by Harry's reaction but sufficiently distracted by the return of the earlier promise that he didn't let it bother him for long. He accepted the compromise and followed a few steps behind Harry, as if being too close to Harry threatened his willpower.

     [This feels equally ridiculous,] Harry objected to the distance with a return of his usual fire. These personality switches were really starting to worry him. Severus's laughter rumbled in his brain.

     [Just a little longer,] he taunted, throwing Harry's words back at him.

_You two sound like you're having fun_ , Vala broke in. _Listen, I should probably warn you about the broom closet ..._

_The broom closet?_ Harry echoed with a puzzled frown, but then he was stumbling out of the void through a sudden threshold, tripping over a bucket and nearly running face first into a closed door. Severus yanked him back just in time, pulling Harry securely into his arms as they both readjusted to the sights and sounds of the world after the vacuum of the void. 

     “A warning would have been nice,” Severus growled, causing his shadows to cower at his feet, like puppies who had misbehaved and were now trying to get back into their owner's good graces.

     “Vala tried,” Harry reluctantly admitted, “but his timing could have been better.”

_It landed you back in Severus's arms, didn't it?_ Vala said, as if this had been his plan all along. He sank deeper and deeper into Harry's thoughts, his voice trailing off as he idly commented, _Ahh, a broom closet. Now there's a place to make memories. Not good during breeding cycles – doors tend to get broken or, worse, splintered – but always a handy spot if you're desperate and in a pinch ..._

     “What is this Mori obsession with broom closets?”

     “I rather like them,” Severus said as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, hugging him back against his body and presenting Harry with evidence of his 'fondness' for their current setting. “Dark and quiet and just enough room to ...”

     Harry had no intention of christening the clinic's broom closet. He wriggled free of Severus's embrace and opened the door.

     The hallway he found himself in was long and painted a pale shade of green. The floors were white tile, clean and shiny from a recent mopping, and the overhead lights, though few and far between, cast a soft glow on the hallway, giving off only enough light to keep the human patients at the clinic from stumbling over their own feet while preventing any discomfort for the Mori patients. A sign had been placed on the wall directly across from the broom closet that read _Admissions Desk To The Right_ , followed by a line of Elvish that Harry assumed was a translation of the English.

     “If they have so many Mori coming through this closet that they need to post directions, why keep the bucket in there?” Severus asked with a frown as he steered Harry to the right.

     “Maybe it wasn't a Mori who put it there. I remember Lisette saying she employed more humans than she did Mori because having too many Mori in one place tends to overwhelm humans. Over half of her patients are human, too.”

     The end of the hallway opened up into a spacious waiting room filled with sniffling, sneezing and otherwise sickly patients waiting for their turn to be called. The admissions desk occupied a central position in the room, currently governed by a single, frizzy-haired receptionist who fielded phone calls with a crisp, professional air. Harry wished he'd had time to change into some normal clothes as he let Severus lead him over to the large desk, aware that they were attracting a lot of attention from the other people in the room – Severus, in his dark robes and barely-there dimming, and Harry in his skirt and stockings, his blouse sloppily untucked from the skirt thanks to Severus, the ends sticking out untidily from under the green jumper. He held the sides of his coat closed to hide the mussed condition of his clothing, but he drew many stares all the same.

     Severus waited until the receptionist ended the phone call before informing her coolly, “We're here for an appointment.”

     The woman regarded them with a critical stare, her eyes a decided shade of brown. Harry knew right away that she didn't have a single drop of Mori blood in her body, yet the way she studied their faces made him believe that she had plenty of experience dealing with the magical creatures.

     “Yes, Potter, wasn't it? Dr. Fairholm is with another patient at the moment but I've been instructed to have the nurse take you to exam room six straight away.”

     Harry blinked. “Wait, did you say Fairholm?”

     “Dr. Fairholm, yes.” The receptionist frowned. “You are here to see her, aren't you? You fit the description ...”

     Severus nudged Harry and pointed to a stack of white business cards on the desk, all emblazoned with the name Elspeth Fairholm followed by a list of abbreviated medical credentials. [Perhaps it's an alias?]

     “Yes, yes, I just ... I'm so used to calling her by her first name,” Harry said. His explanation seemed to mollify the receptionist because she sent them off in the care of a nurse who led them through another long hallway to exam room six.

     On the way, Harry confided his new findings to Severus. [Lisette was the one in my head earlier. When Lucius asked me who I was, it was Lisette who made me say Elspeth Fairholm. She was controlling me through that entire conversation – which, now that I look back on it, was probably for the best. Who knows what I might have said if I'd been left on my own?]

     The room that the nurse showed them to looked more like a luxurious suite in a private hospital than an ordinary exam room in a local clinic. It was large, holding a typical examination table with the stirrups at ready, but there was also a soft-looking chair, partially reclined, that was flanked by some rather impressive but unidentified medical equipment. A desk had been built into the wall on the far right side of the room with a couple of elegant white armchairs arranged next to it, turning it into a cosy little consultation area. Harry prayed he only had to sit in the reclining chair during his exam. Something about being a male with his feet in stirrups just didn't sit right with him. 

     The nurse had Harry remove his coat before she measured his height and weight, then had him sit on the examination table while she checked his blood pressure, all the while talking cheerfully to him about mundane things like the unusual snowfall they were having and the high price of petrol. Harry might have mistaken her for human had it not been for the fact that she removed her glamours and dimming the instant she closed the door behind them. Harry followed suit, recalling Aiya's teachings that the Mori dropped their glamours around each other as a gesture of politeness as well as a show of trust. He also took off the wig, though it took the cooperation of Severus removing the sticking spell for him to get it off without taking some of his real hair with it. He would have removed the spell himself if he hadn’t worried he’d overdo it and end up as bald as Voldemort.

     “Just make yourself comfortable in that chair over there. Dr. Fairholm will be in to see you soon,” the nurse said after she'd written down some numbers on Harry's chart. She gave them both a short bow, hand held over her heart, before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

     “Alone at last,” Severus said, trapping Harry on the exam table with his arms on each side of his body, leaning in to nibble at Harry's lips, teasing him with the softest of kisses before the need to really taste Harry proved too much to resist. He plundered Harry's mouth with his clever tongue while helping him all the way out of his outer clothes, breaking their kiss long enough to toss the woollen coat and Harry's scarf onto one of the armchairs before diving back in again with a throaty groan, sliding his hands up Harry's thighs and under the hem of his skirt.

     [We can't do this here,] Harry said, though the eager way he wrapped his arms around Severus's neck spoke volumes of his true feelings on the subject. [Lisette could come in.]

     [Lisette knows when her presence is wanted ...] Severus brushed his thumbs up the sides of the green knickers, smiling into their kiss as Harry shivered and spread his legs. [... and when it is _not_.]

     He eased Harry down onto the padded table, turning him so he was laying along the length of it, his feet dangling off the end. Severus pulled away, his breathing only slightly laboured, a restrained version of Harry's breathless panting. Sizing Harry up with a predator's calculating stare, he moved to the end of the table and grabbed Harry's hips, yanking him forward so his bottom rested on the very edge. Ignoring Harry's embarrassed protests, he put Harry's feet into the stirrups, spreading Harry's legs wide so that he could have an unhindered view up Harry's skirt.

     [How did Granger talk you into putting on this outfit? Not that I'm complaining. It certainly has its advantages ... ease of access, for starters.] He snapped one of the lacy suspenders, making Harry gasp. [These are pretty enough, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing ... but they're also in my way. Mind if I do away with them?] He didn't wait for an answer, banishing them with a silent spell. 

     Harry felt grateful to be free of them but he wasn't going to put that gratitude into words. Instead, he said with a calmness that didn't suit the situation, [I don't care if you do away with every last stitch of clothing I've got on, so long as you let me out of this humiliating position.] 

     [What? You don't want to play doctor with me?] Severus tried to sound hurt by Harry's resistance, but the low, growling way he said the words 'play doctor' destroyed any illusion of wounded feelings he might have projected. He stroked his hands up and down Harry's stocking-clad calves. [Didn't you promise me that I could do whatever I wanted?]

     [I knew I would regret saying that ...]

     Severus roughly shoved Harry's skirt up around his waist, a feat he'd been attempting since they parted ways with Julian in the void. He hooked his arms around Harry's thighs to keep him from trying to close them, then he bent down to press his mouth over the growing bulge in Harry's knickers, resuming his seduction of Harry as if they'd never left the bedroom in Grimmauld Place. Harry's hips arched of their own volition as Severus sucked hard on the bulge. [Mmm, I don't think that's regret you're feeling.]

     He used his tongue to trace the outline of Harry's cock through the damp material, chuckling when the stiff organ twitched against his lips. He relaxed his firm grip on Harry's thighs and pushed his legs up, giving Harry only a moment's blessed relief as he tugged the green knickers off before placing his feet back in the stirrups. Severus tossed the knickers onto the same chair that held Harry's coat. [Green looks good on you, Potter. You should wear it more often.]

     [And just how long would I be wearing it before you stripped it off of me?]

     [How annoying that you should have a steady reply for everything I say.] Severus pushed the stirrups out to spread Harry's legs open once more, but he made no move to touch him. [Since when have you been so level-headed during sex?]

     Harry, too, found it odd that he'd managed to keep a clear head under Severus's expert ministrations. Maybe Lisette had imprinted more of her personality onto Harry than she'd intended, so that his body responded just as eagerly to Severus as it always had while his brain tried to keep it business as usual, aware of his desire but not overwhelmed by it. He knew Lisette wasn't controlling him anymore, but in a way, she was still with him, influencing him.

     “That is ... disturbing,” Severus said in response to what he'd gleaned from Harry's inner debate, “yet plausible.”

     [Or maybe you're just not trying hard enough.] Harry couldn't help but throw out a second theory, one that he knew would set Severus off. [You should put in a little effort.]

     “That sounds more like the Potter I know,” Severus said with a snort, but there was now a devilish glint in his beetle-black eyes. He walked around the table until he was at Harry’s side, the swish of his robes against Harry’s arm the only physical contact he made. [But why should I do all the work? Self-reliance is a key component in any wizard’s education … and you’re at half-mast already. Surely you don’t need my help?]

     Harry huffed and tried to sit up, but Severus stopped him cold when he reminded him, positively smug, “Whatever I wanted, remember?”

_I really, **really** have to stop promising him things_ , Harry thought, somewhat depressed to know that the odds were against him sticking to his own good advice. When it came to Severus, Harry found himself ready to agree to anything.

     He began stroking his half-hard cock with his right hand, slow and tentative at first, but knowing Severus was watching sent an illicit thrill through him. He refused to look at his face but he imagined he could picture the cold, unreadable expression Severus wore, looking bored or bothered, except for his eyes, those black eyes that burned with the same desire that coursed through Harry's body. Harry felt Severus's hot gaze like a second caress on his cock, as tangible as his long fingers or his mouth would be, and Harry knew he didn't want to make himself come. It was so much better when it was Severus wringing that release out of him.

     “ _Severus_ ... Severus, I want ...” 

     [Did you need something? You look as if you're doing fine on your own.]

     “I need you – Severus, _please_ ,” Harry rasped, reaching out with his free hand for Severus's robes to pull him closer, but the infuriating man backed away. 

     [You make a good point,] he said with a mildness that irritated Harry – how could he act so cool and unaffected? He moved away from Harry as he went searching for something on the counter near the exam table. [Self-reliance has its limits.]

     Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows, watching Severus suspiciously as he examined the array of medical tools and supplies arranged on the counter-top. [Wait, wait ... don't go getting any ideas. I don't want you sticking something weird inside of me.]

     Severus turned to look at him with an arched brow, as if to say, ' _I wasn't thinking anything of the sort, but now that you mention it ...'_ He picked up a white plastic tube of some unknown substance and flipped open the top. [Surgical lubricant. I don't want to hurt you, now do I?]

     [Oh.] Harry laid back, crossing his arms over his face. The jumper's sleeves effectively hid the tomato red of his cheeks and muffled the quick, ragged breaths he took while waiting for Severus to finally touch him. Several seconds went by without even a sound from Severus; Harry peeked out from under his arms. Severus had placed himself between Harry's legs, but he just stood there, staring. Harry scowled, asking crossly, [What are you waiting for?]

     “That's my boy,” Severus purred, pleased by Harry's outburst, and he rewarded him with a warm, slippery finger, slowly easing it inside of him. Harry kept his face covered as Severus loosened him up, each added finger sending a tingle up his spine. It seemed to Harry that Severus was taking an awfully long time getting him ready when all he wanted was to have Severus inside him, deep and hard and fast, and the grind of his hips against Severus's fingers made his feelings quite clear.

     [Always so impatient,] Severus chided him. He slid his fingers out of Harry's body and opened his robes, unzipping his trousers so he could free his own straining erection from the confines of his boxers. [Lucky for you, I'm in no mood to wait, either.] He wasted no time in nudging the head of his cock against the slicked ring of muscle, a low moan humming in his throat as he pressed his way inside.

     Harry grunted and braced his feet against the stirrups, his hands clutching the sides of the exam table as Severus filled him. The time for teasing and restraint was gone. Whatever Darkness had possessed Severus earlier in the day returned now, his actions more frenzy than finesse as he gazed down at Harry with a fierce hunger in his black-on-black eyes. He shoved up Harry's jumper and blouse as he started to thrust in and out, leaning down to suck and bite at his nipples before yanking the jumper's collar to the side and turning his attention to the base of Harry's throat, where neck and shoulder joined. In the same spot, over and over, Severus would bite down with restrained force, never breaking the skin, then soothe the skin with his tongue, attempting but not succeeding to keep his actions timed to each frantic jerk of his hips against Harry's arse. Harry wasn't even sure Severus knew what he was doing, perhaps driven by instinct, perhaps driven by something even deeper, but the pleasure it sent shooting to his groin mattered more to him than the questions it raised.

     It was rough and quick, Harry coming first, his hips lifting clear off the table to meet the last of Severus's spearing thrusts. Severus groaned as Harry clenched around him, pulling away from Harry's neck as he gritted his teeth against the urge to come inside that tight, warm passage. Instead, he swiftly pulled out and finished himself off with a few strokes of his hand, spattering Harry's thighs and crotch with his hot, sticky seed.

     Harry stared dazedly at the ceiling, thighs trembling, a soft whimper torn from his lips when Severus began to lick the come from his cock. He cleaned Harry thoroughly, using his wand to remove the stains on Harry's clothes but determined to use his tongue to remove the rest, especially since Harry had implemented his ' _don't use magic on me_ ' rule. It only made sense to Severus to take advantage of such a rule whenever he could.

     When he decided Harry was presentable again, he eased his feet out of the stirrups and helped him sit up. He cleaned himself and fixed his own clothes disinterestedly, not as concerned about his own appearance as long as he was decent, then he picked Harry up and carried him over to the reclining chair. He set him down with a gentleness that was almost laughable after the way he'd pounded into Harry's body only minutes ago. The blouse and jumper were pulled back into place but he left the skirt bunched up around Harry's waist, unable to resist a last feather-light brush of his fingers over Harry's limp cock, nuzzling his neck at the same time.

     [We'll save the rest for later.]

     Harry's eyes flew open. “The _rest_? What do you mean the – ”

     Severus hushed him with a slow, sensual kiss, gently biting Harry's lower lip before murmuring, “Later.”

     “Later,” Harry echoed stupidly, easily cowed by the kiss.

     [Is it safe to come in?] Lisette's soft question penetrated the haze of Harry's mind and he sat up quickly, pushing down his skirt so he wouldn't give Lisette an eye-full when she came into the room. 

     “Want these back?” Severus drawled with a sly smile as he retrieved the green knickers, holding them up by one finger to wave them in front of Harry's face.

     “Just get rid of them,” Harry hissed.   


     Severus eyed the garment, pondering which course of action to take, but in the end he slipped the pair of knickers into a pocket in his robes, much to Harry's dismay. After all, he'd planned on burning those at the end of the day. Maybe he could sneak them away from Severus later ...

     “Don't count on it,” Severus whispered into his ear right before the door swung open and Lisette walked in.

     “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said with a knowing smile that told Harry she'd really stayed away on purpose, just like Severus had said she would. “So many cold and flu patients! This unexpected weather has been sending them to the clinic in droves. No one knows quite what to make of it. The weathermen are tearing their hair out trying to make sense of it. Sure, it's perfect weather if you're a Mori, but with most of us in the Underground now, who's left to enjoy it?”

     “This weather isn't natural. I've seen something similar before, as I'm sure you have as well.” Severus dragged over an empty chair so he could sit next to Harry. He'd gone from sultry to serious in a matter of seconds. The abrupt change always disoriented Harry, who took longer to recover from their more heated moments. “It seems to me that someone is going to a lot of trouble to make conditions favourable for the Mori to come out and play.”

     “Then you, too, suspect a wizard is behind this. Do you think it could be Voldemort?”

     “After what I've seen today, I have my doubts that Voldemort is the wizard we need to worry about, unbelievable as that may be. He is still a danger, but we would be foolish to think he is our only threat.”

     “Can't we save this discussion for tonight?” Harry asked with a sigh. The sooner Lisette examined him, the sooner he could go home and relax. Voldemort, or whoever else was competing with him for biggest-pain-in-Harry's-arse, was the last thing he wanted to talk about right then.

     Lisette nodded. “Of course, Harry, you're right. Let's get started on your exam, shall we?”

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

     “Physically, everything looks good.” Lisette said as she wiped the gel off of Harry's belly and pulled his blouse and jumper back in place. She'd conducted the ultrasound herself, giving them a detailed explanation of what they were seeing and the importance of the measurements she took. “He's far more developed than is usual at this stage, but there are no set standards for male pregnancy.”

     Harry hung on her every word while Severus merely nodded absently, too preoccupied with pouring over his son's 'first pictures' to give Lisette his full attention. He'd squeezed Harry's hand so tightly when they first listened to the baby's heartbeat, overcome by the enormity of what he was hearing, and he'd interrogated Lisette throughout the ultrasound, wanting to get the most he could out of the experience. Harry enjoyed seeing him so wrapped up in the process; he got a real kick out of watching Severus in the role of doting father.

     “Now, Harry, I want to test the baby's reaction to concentrated light. I'll only be using a weak lumos spell, but you might feel some discomfort since I'll be casting it so close to you. If you feel any pain, let me know immediately.”

     She picked up her wand and held it over Harry's stomach. As soon as the spell left her lips, conjuring a dim glow over his belly, Harry felt an acute flash of fear from the baby that sent him scrambling away from Lisette's wand, shouting at her to stop. Severus caught him before he could tumble out of the chair, rubbing soothing circles on Harry's back as he held him close, reassuring him that Lisette had put her wand away and nothing was going to happen to the baby.

     Lisette waited for Harry to calm down before saying softly, “This worries me, Harry. An unborn Mori is accustomed to the darkness of the womb, and in most cases he or she is not affected by light until birth. Your son's fear of light is violent and instinctual, and it's grown worse since I last examined you. From now on you _must_ avoid all direct sunlight. If you have to go anywhere during the day, you go through the void or you don't go at all. Let's cut back on your exposure to firelight as well. I understand this will be inconvenient when you want to be around your friends, so a _lumos_ spell is acceptable from time to time as long as you keep your distance from its source, but pure, natural light is forbidden. If you keep to the darkness for the rest of your pregnancy, I see no reason why you can't have a perfectly healthy baby.”

     Harry nodded, grateful for Severus's grounding presence. He knew Lisette was doing her best not to frighten him, but even her gentle voice would not have calmed him if Severus had not been there for support. Why was the baby so afraid of light, having never experienced it directly? 

     “Other than that, just do what you've been doing. Eat more. I want you nice and plump by Christmas. I'd ask you to cut back on any stressful activities, but we're not exactly living in peaceful times these days. You'll have to pick your battles from now on.”

     “I'll make sure he avoids any unpleasant situations,” Severus said in a tone both soft and resolute, his hand a warm weight on Harry's shoulder as his fingers massaged Harry's tense muscles.

     “I'm sure you will.” Lisette's eyes brightened, her lips curling upward in a smile, a hint of something suggestive in her voice, but her professionalism won over and she went on briskly, “I anticipate this baby will be ready to make his debut in early Spring. I wish I could give you a more definite date, but male pregnancies are notoriously unpredictable. I have a feeling that Nature hasn't quite worked out the kinks in that area .. it may be another century or two before it all goes smoothly. Adaptation takes time to perfect itself.”

     She stood up, walking to the small desk built into the wall where she made a few notes on Harry's chart. “I don't believe we'll need to schedule another ultrasound unless there are complications. Normally, I wouldn't advise a magical examination until the baby is sixteen weeks along, but he's a bit of an overachiever – perhaps twelve weeks is a better estimate? We can test his reaction when the time comes ... late January, early February.”

     [Hear that, Potter? Overachiever, she says.] Severus placed his hand over the small bump beneath Harry's jumper, smiling proudly.

     [He must take after you,] Harry said with a wry smile. 

     “Here, I brought these with me when I left the house this morning. I thought you might want to change into your own clothes after the exam.” Lisette handed Harry a bundle of clothing that was blessedly free of lace and frills: a pair of jeans, a warm, green and blue flannel shirt, and a pair of boxers. There weren't any socks, so he'd have to keep the stockings on, but Harry didn't care since the jeans would cover them. 

     The phone on the desk rang and Lisette picked it up, cradling it between her ear and her shoulder as she continued writing notes on the chart spread out in front of her. “Yes, Dr. Fairholm here.” A long pause followed, during which Harry could hear the breathy voice of the frizzy-haired receptionist sounding harried and a touch uneasy. He couldn't quite tell what she was saying, too tired to make an effort at eavesdropping, but he caught the gist of the conversation from what Lisette said in return. “Hmmm ... yes .... by name, you say? Did you tell him I'm not taking appointments at this time? No, no, I understand. I'll be right out. Please tell him to take a seat ...,” another pause, then Lisette laughed and said, “No, I think I can spare a few minutes ... just a brief chat, not a consultation. If he requires immediate medical attention, I'll refer him to Dr. Lytton.”

     After hanging up the phone, she closed the folder containing Harry's chart and slowly, gingerly stood up, as if her true age had suddenly caught up with her. It seemed the energy she'd expended on Harry that afternoon had taken more of a toll on Lisette than even she had expected. “Go ahead and get changed. I have a few instructions to leave with the nurses and a visitor in the waiting room, so if I'm not back in fifteen minutes, leave without me. I'll follow you just as soon as I'm finished here.”

     Harry watched her leave the room with a sympathetic smile. He, too, felt battered and worn down from the events of the day; even his instincts felt blunt and useless, each stressful moment scraping away another layer of awareness, filing away all the sharpness of his mind until nothing but an eerie numbness remained. 

     “Consider yourself on house arrest from this point forward,” Severus said briskly as he took off Harry's left shoe. 

     "That's hardly fair,” Harry grumbled in protest. 

     “Don't complain to me about fairness. If you want a sympathetic ear on that subject, you'll have to make do with your no-good godfather. He does more than his share of whining about what's fair and what isn't. I'm sure that miserable mutt will love having a fellow inmate who can't escape his tedious company.”

     “You're the only one who finds him tedious.”

     “I'm the only one with any taste.” Severus paused and looked over his shoulder, as if he'd been distracted by a noise or an unwelcome presence. He stood silent and alert, head cocked to one side. “Did you feel that?”

     “No, I didn't feel anything. Why are you so jumpy? We're safe at the clinic.”

     Severus waited a few more seconds before turning back to the task at hand. He reached for Harry's other shoe but Harry stopped him.

     “Wait. Let me do it.” He took off the cramped black shoe and flexed his toes in relief. He'd walk home barefoot through the void before he put those torture devices back on. Maybe he could get Severus to carry him on his back for the return trip. The shrunken photograph remained safely in the toe of Harry's shoe, and he plucked it out before tossing the offending shoe aside. “I kept this with me in case Rauko rummaged through my things while we were gone.”

     He held the picture up so Severus could see it, waiting for a sign of recognition, but Severus just stared at it quizzically. Harry felt something close to happiness swell up inside of him before he quickly squelched it and held the picture closer to Severus's face. “It's the picture you gave me in my inheritance, remember? The one that tells me where Aiya is.”

     “Ah, _that_ picture.” Severus didn't seem inclined to elaborate on the picture's history, and Harry couldn't bring himself to ask about it in case he learned more than he wanted to about his mother's past relationship with his mate. 

     Suddenly, Severus grabbed his wrist and brought Harry's hand up to his nose, sniffing the miniature photo with an almost Padfoot-like concentration.

     “Are you sure you want to be smelling something that's been in my shoe all day?”

     “Quiet, Potter.” Severus took out his wand and restored the photo to its original size, examining the writing on the back before smelling it again, his expression hardening. “This isn't the photograph I gave you. The spell on this photograph was cast recently, not decades ago.”

     “That can't be right.” Harry took the photo back so he could judge for himself. If he simply looked at the picture, everything appeared to be exactly the same: his mother's beaming face, the vivid yellow sundress, and of course the elegant scrawl on the back that continued to read: _Stuttgart, Germany_. It was only when Harry brought the photo closer to identify its magical scent that he realized he couldn't smell even a trace of his sister. From what he could tell, the spell on the photo was only a few days old and devoid of Aiya's scent, but it smelled familiar all the same ...

     He held the photo away from him as if it was something rotten, his stomach turning as he guessed at the scent's origin. “I think this spell was cast by Lyr ... or Aleksei ... or whoever he is. He must have switched the photos on our last day at Hogwarts, when I left the original behind in his classroom.”

     “He's a clever one, alright,” Severus said as he took the photo from Harry. “ _Geminio_ to duplicate the photo, and then a simple but efficient tracking spell to let him know where you are. He knew it was something you'd keep close to you, something you wouldn’t part with easily. You remained hidden while you were at Grimmauld Place, but the instant you ventured into the wizarding world, he hunted you down …”

_Hunted … hunted …_ the word struck a nerve in Harry, and he thought he could hear his sister whispering in his ear, ‘ _The hawk is a fierce predator …_ ’

     “… a sharp-eyed hunter,” Harry finished the thought aloud.

     “What?”

     “Just something Aiya said. We have to warn her, Severus. If they have that photograph then they know where she is.” Which would put Lucius and Aleksei a step ahead of Harry. It was anyone’s guess how long it had been since Aiya and Draco left Stuttgart. They could be miles and miles away by now. He automatically fumbled for his connection to his sister, forgetting in his panic that it remained broken, finding only emptiness where once he'd found love and security. The pain of that loss felt as fresh to Harry as it had felt on the night Aiya disappeared, made all the more terrible by their current situation: Aiya was in danger and Harry was helpless to save her. Would it be Halloween all over again? 

     He wouldn't let himself consider the possibility, but the guilt seeped in all the same, tormenting him. “It’s my fault. If I had put the photograph somewhere safe instead of carrying it around with me …”

     “Aiya means a lot to you, Harry. It’s only natural you’d want to keep that photo close to you, and then there's your mother …” Severus trailed off, clearly uncomfortable talking about Lily Potter. He stared at the photograph for a long moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, but a ripple of alarm disturbed his stoic expression as he looked up at Harry. “If they tracked you to Gringotts ...”

     “... they could track me here,” Harry said as he shimmied out of the skirt then quickly pulled on his boxers and jeans. Severus decided he was taking too long and freed him from the jumper and blouse with a wand-less spell, dressing him in the long-sleeved flannel shirt but only getting half the buttons buttoned before being interrupted by a wordless cry for help, a silent appeal that only a Mori would hear. 

     A muffled crash could be heard from beyond the door, followed by a scream and a clatter of footfalls, as if the loud noise had set off a stampede. Harry only had time to think, _Lisette_ , a stricken gasp of his own mindtoo soft for even Severus to hear, and then he heard the crack of apparition behind him, sharp as a bone snapping, a sound that went straight to his gut and plunged deep. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know who it was. The hate that flashed in Severus's eyes coupled with the fear that gripped him out of nowhere told him all he needed to know. Thinking fast, he reapplied his glamours and dimmed down his appearance before he turned to face the wizard standing behind him, not wanting to give his secrets away so easily. 

     “A wizard without his wand?” Lucius pointed his own wand straight at Harry's chest, a gleam of triumph in his grey eyes. “Your recent exploits have made you careless, Potter. Or are you depending on the Mori to protect you?” He glanced at Severus before looking back at Harry, giving no sign of recognizing Severus except for identifying him as a morion. 

     [We can't fight him here. I don't think we'd lose, but ...] Harry could tell that Severus was seconds away from attacking, and for once he would have to be the voice of reason in their relationship. Like Lisette said, he had to pick his battles from now on. For the baby's sake, it was imperative that he choose wisely. His exhaustion and Severus's high-strung, hair-trigger instincts were huge disadvantages should they choose to turn this into a confrontation. In many ways, they would be fighting themselves as much as they would be fighting Lucius if they engaged him now. 

     Severus seemed determined to take Lucius on, no doubt seeing this as an opportunity to end one of their biggest problems once and for all. [You should run. Let me take care of him.] 

     Harry saw Severus try to move forward only to be frozen in place, held fast by invisible hands, his anger turning to confusion then to fear, but Harry, who had experienced just such a paralysis when first meeting Rauko in the Shrieking Shack, took Severus's immobility as a sign that help had arrived, and he only needed to be patient ... and talkative ... to get them both out of this situation unharmed. Perhaps his instincts had grown duller than he originally thought; those murderous impulses that usually took hold of him every time he crossed paths with the elder Malfoy were quieter now. He felt as if he'd stolen all of Severus's self-control for himself – yes, _control_. He felt it within his grasp: control over Lucius, control over the entire situation.

     “I don't need a wand,” he said coolly, channelling the last remnants of Lisette's influence into an unflappable smile that threw Lucius off guard. “I don't believe you've come here to harm me, Lucius. What would be the sport in that? Killing me just so you could cart off my corpse as a trophy for Voldemort?” Lucius winced at the name. “That isn't really why you're here, is it? Why would you be his errand boy, when you could have me all for yourself?”

     [What are you doing, Harry? Get out of here!] Severus's threatening snarl almost made Harry lose his nerve, but he was certain this was the right tactic. Lucius wanted him, there could be no doubt, and what better way to distract him than to dangle the carrot right in front of his nose?

     [... _powerful wards surrounding the clinic. Travelling in or out through the void is impossible. Seven, maybe eight wizards_ ... _all entrances and exits are being watched ... there have been sun-spells cast here ..._ ]

     [ _Stick to the shadows until you find a way to get inside unnoticed. Wen, soora utinuamin. Khiasa, vakha verne'amin. I want the head of the wizard who dared attack her._ ]

     [ _... two casualties in the waiting room ... both human ..._ ]

     [ _Heruamin, I have found her. There is_ _no sign of the wizard who attempted to take her ... she is unconscious but breathing, minor burns on her right arm and her back_... _there is blood, but it is not hers ..._ ]

     [ _Manke naa Julian? He was right beside me ..._ ]

     [... _helping a family evacuate ... I'll catch up to you as soon as they're safe ..._ ]

     Mori voices drifted in and out of his mind like police dispatches, giving him a good overview of what had happened and where they stood. Disappearing into a shadow wouldn't work this time unless they could find someone to disable the wards, and as luck would have it, the best man for the job was right there in the room with Harry. If they worked together, they just might be able to pull it off. 

     [Trust me,] he pleaded with Severus before focusing on Lucius, forcing himself to take a small step forward, trying not to flinch when he felt Severus clawing at his mind, intent on stopping him. The wall behind Lucius began to bleed black with shadows, signalling the arrival of another Mori and giving Harry the confidence boost he needed to take another step closer. He schooled his expression into a reasonable imitation of Julian's signature seductive grin, playing the part of teenage wizard gone bad as he said, “I'm right, aren't I? Voldemort simply wants to see me dead, but _you_ ... you have plans for me. Maybe a little torture ... a little pain to let me know my place ...” Harry gave a small shiver, appearing to enjoy the idea of pain at Lucius's hands when in reality the idea repulsed him; Lucius, he noticed, had lowered his wand a few inches. “... but you're smarter than him. You know how much power I hold ... and by controlling me, you could control that power ...”

     Lucius tightened his grip on his wand but did not raise it any higher. “And the Mori?”

     “Ahh, I'm afraid they don't like you very much.” Harry's head tilted to the side, a playful smile on his lips. He really surprised himself with how well he could pretend while his instincts were weakly but endlessly urging him to attack, Severus barking at him to run, and the baby's unnerving silence on the matter scaring him more than anything. “Not that such an insignificant detail would matter to someone like you ... but you really should be careful, Lucius.” As he spoke Lucius's name he let a fraction of his dimming slip, only the barest glimpse of his true face but enough to lower that wand another inch. Soon, they could make their move. Harry brushed his mind against Severus's but found only a brick wall of fury and frustration. He pushed harder. “A Mori's bite is much, much worse than his bark.”

     “What are you up to, Potter?” Lucius regarded Harry with a feverish but suspicious gaze, beguiled by Harry's manner and words but rightfully distrusting their sincerity. “You were hardly this cordial to me when we met at Hogwarts.” 

     [ _Trust me_ ,] Harry hissed at Severus, not only irritated that he had to ask that of him, but that he had to ask it _twice_. [Let me get closer to him and when I've got him distracted, apparate out of here and get to work on those wards! I won't be alone – there's a Mori shadowing us.] To Lucius, he merely smirked and said, “What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.”

     [You don't realize what you're asking of me,] Severus said in a dangerously low voice, but his grudging tone told Harry that he had resigned himself to the necessity of separation, cold intellect replacing rage, and whoever had been holding Severus back released him with a shudder of dark energy. The wall behind Lucius was pitch black now, the shadows seething like dark flames, but Lucius remained oblivious to the danger lurking behind him. Harry glimpsed a pair of glimmering blue eyes within the darkness before they vanished again.

     “Your worst is infinitely more appealing than your best,” Lucius murmured. “What a pity I couldn't bring it out of you sooner ...”

     “No time like the present.” Harry stopped just short of Lucius's wand, his palms itching with a sudden influx of energy, his body responding defensively to the close proximity of his enemy even though his emotions remained detached. His boldness knew no bounds as he reached out with his left hand and ran his fingertips down the length of Lucius's wand, taking his deception a step further with the sensual gesture. “I can show you the real Harry Potter – no Imperius Curse necessary.”

     [ _Harry_.] There was real anguish as well as anger in Severus's voice, his territorial instincts pushed to the breaking point. Harry could feel magic, dark and powerful, come crashing against his back – Severus's magic searching him out, grasping wildly for a hold on him, desperate to pull him back from what appeared to be the brink of disaster. This charade couldn't go on for much longer ...

     “Wouldn't you like that?” Harry's fingers coasted from Lucius's wand to his hand, applying gentle pressure as he tried to get Lucius to lower his wand all the way. “Don't mind my guard. He likes to watch.”

     All this time Lucius had been too captivated by Harry to give Severus a second look, but he glanced at him now, his fingers clenching around his wand briefly before he relaxed and looked back at Harry, clearly taken in by this seductive new side of the Boy Who Lived. 

     “He looks like he wants to kill me. Are you sure he's willing to let you get this close to me?”

     “He's as willing as I am,” Harry said with utmost sincerity, masking the true meaning of his words with an inviting smile as he closed the distance between them. He slid his hands up Lucius's arms to his shoulders, half-embracing him, and he felt rather than saw Lucius drop his own arm back to his side, his wand no longer a threat. Lucius bent his head to kiss Harry, resting his left hand lightly on his hip, but in those few seconds before their lips could touch, Harry signalled Severus.

     [Now!]

     The crack of apparition startled Lucius into looking up. “That was – ”

     Harry wasted no time in shoving Lucius away from him, pushing hard enough to send him stumbling back against the shadow-covered wall. A pair of arms reached out of the darkness and locked around Lucius's body, holding him prisoner against the wall. His wand clattered to the floor, useless, but Harry knew better than to count Lucius out. No doubt he was well versed in wand-less magic. 

_But he's been subdued. I can kill him_ , Harry thought, cradling the idea so peacefully in his mind that he might as well have been contemplating an everyday decision like what to wear or when to eat. His hands throbbed with restless energy, his instincts growing sharper and more insistent as Lisette's enforced tranquillity ebbed away, his exhaustion diminished by the euphoria of victory. He'd already squandered his first opportunity to get rid of Lucius. He couldn't bring himself to let another perfect chance pass by and not do anything. Whatever risk to the baby, could it really be worse than letting Lucius live and having Harry's vision of capture and torture come true?

_This won't be an act of self defence, Harry. This will be murder. Can you live with that? Can you justify exposing your child to such a cold-blooded act?_

     Harry shrugged off Vala's intrusion into his thoughts. He resented the spirit's ability to make him doubt himself. The sense of control he'd been savouring was slipping away. [This is a man with no respect for life. Why should I show him mercy? If I kill him, I'll be protecting my son, not harming him ...]

_Then why do you hesitate?_

     The Mori hidden in the shadows spoke a quiet warning into Harry's mind. [I can't hold him forever, _taren en amin_.] Several shadowy limbs, extensions of the unseen captor, emerged from the darkness and wrapped around Lucius's mouth, legs and torso in an effort to keep the wizard from breaking free.

_Harry, don't become the thing you hate ... it didn't work for Rauko, and it certainly won't work for you._

     But Harry couldn't bring himself to just walk away. He raised his hand, the Killing Curse forming on his lips, but a flash of white light grazed his cheek and robbed him of his attack. He spun around to see an unfamiliar black-haired wizard behind him, wand at the ready. The sun-spell that had struck Harry's face had left only a scratch but it burned like hell – he supposed he should be grateful that whoever this was, he had cast one too many dark spells in his lifetime for his _Solis Invictus_ to be deadly. Shadows darkened Harry's face as they rushed to soothe their master's pain and prevent the spell's damage from spreading, but Harry's thoughts had already leapt ahead to what he could do to disarm the wizard without risking a second sun-spell. The attack had forced him to drop his dimming entirely, a purely instinctive reaction, but it put to rest any doubts his opponent might have had about whether he was a Mori or not. He expected any minute for the exam room to fill with debilitating light – why hadn't that been the wizards' first method of attack? Why did the clinic remain as dimly lit as when Harry and Severus first arrived there?

_You'll have Lisette to thank for that_ , Vala said, his voice harsher and more intense than Harry had ever heard it, which made its similarity to Severus's voice even stronger. _Her final act before she fell unconscious was to prevent them from illuminating the rooms with magic. I told her she was too weak to cast a spell of that magnitude, but she went and did it anyway. The light they create fades almost immediately. Their sun-spells seem unaffected, however, so be careful_.

     “Release him,” the man said as he gestured with his head at a struggling, red-faced Lucius. He kept his wand trained on Harry. “I'd hate to add another scar to such a pretty face.”

     [ _There's a breach in the wards ... don't know how it happened but I can feel it ... I want everyone evacuated ... no one gets left behind ..._ ]

     [ _... someone get in here and help me ... I've got my arms full of blond bastard and the Heir is in trouble ... Julian, manke naa lle?_ ]

     “Did you hear me? I said release him.” The wizard took a step forward, not noticing the solitary shadow that crept up over his left shoulder and curled around his neck until it was too late, his body yanked backwards into Severus's grasp. 

     “You will regret harming him,” he hissed into the wizard's ear. That single tendril of darkness tightened around the wizard's neck, choking him until he was writhing in panic before Severus tired of him, tossing him across the room like a child abandoning an old toy. The wizard crashed headfirst into Lisette's desk then fell to the floor, unmoving.

     [ _Ahh, never mind helping me now, Julian ... your ai'toror just handled my problem ..._ ]

     [ _... I could use some help myself, Wen ... this wizard just won't take no for an answer, he ---_ ]

     Julian's voice abruptly cut off.

     Severus cursed under his breath and reached for Harry. “We have to go.”

     Harry glanced back at Lucius and raised his hand, altering his original intentions and uttering a clear, firm, “ _Stupefy_!” The force of the spell caused Lucius's head to snap back and strike the wall before his body went completely limp. Harry watched dispassionately as the Mori holding Lucius immediately dropped him to the floor, eager to get away from him. The pair of arms disappeared back into the shadows as Severus pulled Harry out of the exam room.

     The clinic's corridors looked as if they'd gone through a battle of their own: large cracks and dents in the plaster, ceiling lights broken or flickering erratically, smears of blood on the tile floor. Occasional shouts punctuated the sounds of fighting occurring in other parts of the building, the loudest coming from the direction of the waiting room. Severus drew his wand out of his robes and took out the few working lights in the hallway, giving them the cover of darkness as he led Harry past exam rooms and offices to a storage closet near the back of the building.

     [Get inside,] he said, opening the door and pushing Harry forward. [I dismantled the wards in this area so you should have no problem using the void to escape. I have to go help Julian.]

     [But I - ] Harry didn't get a chance to protest as, for the second time that day, a pair of hands shot out of the darkness and dragged him into the void, though this time it was Rauko who embraced him, not Severus. 

     [You are safe, utinuamin.] Rauko smoothed Harry's hair back from his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then reached down to place a hand on Harry's belly, smiling as the baby weakly responded, showing signs of awareness for the first time since the attack began. Harry shared in his son's strange, visual language, a pale star-burst of violet against the black backdrop of his mind that he deciphered as a greeting meant specifically for Rauko, and even that half-hearted attempt at communication from the baby provided him with a measure of relief after the previous stretch of silence.

     Rauko kept one arm around Harry's shoulders as he led him through the void, more protective and affectionate towards Harry than he'd ever been in the past, and even more unusual was that Harry allowed this closeness between them – welcomed it, really, since having Rauko's strong presence beside him provided him with a deep sense of security and quieted the baby's fears, too. 

     [Do not worry,] Rauko said, calming Harry even more with his smooth, hypnotic voice, [Severus has found Julian. They will join us back at your godfather's house.]

     [Is Julian hurt?]

     Rauko didn't answer, but the shadows seemed to tug harder at Harry's body, acting on some unspoken command to hurry their journey along, and suddenly he was stepping out of a threshold into one of the many bedrooms at Grimmauld Place. The smoky scent that greeted Harry reminded him of the Lennox house, where the smells of burnt flesh and sun-spell had been thick enough to taste, like a mouthful of ashes. Hermione stood next to the bed, wringing water from a cloth, blocking Harry's view of the person she was nursing.

     “You're back! Oh, Harry, I've been so worried!” Hermione forgot about the wet cloth in her hand as she threw her arms around Harry, accidentally slapping the back of his neck with the cold cloth. She misinterpreted his gasp of shock as a sound of pain, and she quickly pulled back, her face etched with worry. She gently touched her fingertips to the cut on Harry's cheek. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

     “One little scratch is the extent of my war wounds,” Harry said dryly. He peered over Hermione's shoulders to see that it was Lisette who lay in the bed. She'd been placed on her stomach so Hermione could tend to the burns on her back, her right arm heavily bandaged and a faint purplish discolouration around her eyes and her mouth. Rauko left Harry's side to claim a seat on the bed next to his wife, tenderly stroking his hand over her unbound hair. Lisette stirred but did not wake up.

     “She's suffering some kind of magical drain,” Hermione whispered to Harry, though a look from Rauko reminded her that no amount of whispering would prevent him from hearing her. She bit her lip nervously before continuing in a normal tone of voice, “I think the energy she expended to fight off the damage of the sun-spell was too much of a strain on her. She won't wake up until her magical levels are balanced again. It's the same thing that happened to you on Halloween. See the bruising on her face? That's a clear sign that she's used a dangerous amount of magic. You wouldn't see that in a human, of course, but the Mori are purely magical creatures. Any magical imbalance can have consequences to their health. She doesn't react to spells the same way you do, so we can't cure her with dark magic like I did with you. We just have to wait for her to wake up on her own.”

     Harry nodded but he wasn't really listening. Lisette, already so petite, looked heartbreakingly fragile as she lay still and silent on the large bed, dwarfed by her husband's imposing frame, the creamy, pale skin of her back marred with angry red burns. The fingers of her right hand twitched violently every now and then, as if Lisette continued to fight even in her sleep. Harry knew that it wasn't just the sun-spell that had drained Lisette – hadn't Vala said as much back at the clinic? Whatever spell she had cast to prevent their attackers from using light against the Mori must have been a powerful one, strong enough to cover the entire clinic and lasting long enough to allow the survivors to reach safety. 

     [I want to know how this happened,] Rauko spoke to Harry without looking at him, his eyes only for Lisette as he continued to touch her hair and her face, absorbed by the sight of her. [How did they find you?]

     Harry turned his head away, ashamed to admit that he was indirectly responsible for leading Lucius and his followers to the clinic, but he was saved from explaining everything to Rauko by the arrival of Severus. 

     “Miss Granger, I need you in the other room,” he said as he poked his head into the doorway.

     [When did you get back?] Harry asked, surprised that he hadn't sensed it, though he was having trouble feeling anything but his own guilt now that he'd seen Lisette's condition. How many others were injured? Hadn't one of the Mori mentioned human casualties? Harry could feel the weight of those deaths settle squarely on his shoulders.

     [Less than a minute ago. Julian is wounded and I need Miss Granger to examine him to confirm something for me.]

     Harry hesitated, wanting to follow Hermione and Severus to the room where Julian had been taken but well aware of Rauko's continued hold over him. He looked back at him, silently asking for a reprieve from any further questions.

     [You may go,] Rauko said softly, then added sharply, [but you _will_ tell me everything, Harry, and soon. There will be no secrets between us any longer.]

     Harry sighed and nodded, trailing behind Hermione and Severus as they walked down the hallway to Julian's bedroom. Severus felt cold and distant, withdrawing from Harry's attempt to touch his mind and barricading himself away behind his barriers. Harry felt that rejection like a slap to the face. Was Severus blaming him as well? He was too afraid of the answer to ask.

     The rooms they passed were full of Mori, their faces unfamiliar to Harry but their energies gliding over his skin with the familiarity of old friends, silently saying hello to him while they tended to their injured friends and family. From the endless rumble of voices in the back of his mind, Harry concluded there were four or five injured Mori at Grimmauld Place, not including Lisette and Julian. He tried not to think about where the bodies of those who didn't survive were being kept. 

     “Harry, are you sure you're okay? You're so pale ...” Hermione took hold of his hand as they neared Julian's room. “Maybe you should go and rest.”

     Severus glanced back at Harry over his shoulder, his lips parting as if he were about to echo Hermione's sentiments, but then his expression hardened and he stalked into Julian's room, barking at Harry and Hermione to keep up.

     “He must be really worried about Julian,” Hermione said under her breath, but Harry could neither confirm or deny Severus's state of mind. He felt lost with that barrier between them. He just shook his head and urged Hermione to go into the room ahead of him. The smell of sun-spell had receded entirely, to Harry's relief, but another scent, fresh and pungent, struck him as he edged into Julian's room. It was the scent of a spell, yes, but a spell so rare that he'd only experienced it from one person, and that had been years after the spell was initially cast, so the scent wasn't as fresh. Though his rational mind knew it couldn't be true, for a few seconds Harry's heart pounded with the belief that Aiya had come home and was waiting at Julian's bedside. His delusion lasted only long enough for him to look around the room and realize his sister was nowhere in sight. The only Mori in the room apart from Severus and Julian were a stone-faced Khiasa standing watch at the foot of Julian's bed and a shorter, spiky-haired morion with a heart-shaped face and large, limpid eyes that were a shade of ocean blue similar to Dorian's eyes. If Aiya wasn't there, that could only mean ...

     “Someone used the binding spell on Julian,” he said, his voice dulled with disbelief as he drew the stares of those assembled in the room. Hermione gasped and hurried to Julian's side, drawing back the tatters of his shirt to reveal several bloody runes carved into his chest. Julian was awake but unresponsive, his half-lidded eyes staring at the opposite wall without emotion or awareness.

     “ _Coi'e'gurtha_ ,” Hermione whispered, giving the spell its Elvish name. She turned back to Harry with a frown. “Harry, you can smell it?”

     The other Mori were looking at Harry with puzzlement as well, except for Severus who was very careful not to look at Harry at all.

     “I thought ... I thought I smelled Aiya,” he said, clutching his stomach now, certain he was going to be sick. Had he fallen into his nightmare without realizing it? In his dream, Julian had been trying to mask both the scent and the spell beneath heavy glamours but Harry had smelled it all the same, the stench of a spell so horrible that the Mori preferred death to living with its chains ... and Harry knew who had cast it, knew why the scent had reminded him of Professor Lyr. The room swam before his eyes as he flashed back to his dream, terrified by the images and sensations he was reliving, the sight of Julian's tortured body and the agonizing pain of his own sunburned skin. 

     “Aleksei ... Aleksei did this ... it isn't finished, it's incomplete ... but he won't stop until he has what he wants. He'll find us both, he'll take us ... he'll give me to Lucius and he'll finish what he started with Julian ... he ...”

     Harry swayed on his feet, missing the startled look Severus gave him, but the spiky-haired morion saved him from falling and helped him over to a chair, supporting him only long enough for Harry to be settled comfortably before he put several feet between them, glancing covertly at Severus the whole time. Severus clenched his jaw but didn't approach Harry, appearing to fight his instincts as he turned back to Hermione. 

     “Then you and Harry agree that this spell is the same one Lucius used on Aiya.”

     “Exactly the same, though some of the runes and symbols will naturally be different. The spell reflects the wizard who casts it, and there's always a mark of ownership. For the Malfoys, it would be an ouroboros. I'm not sure what family crest the attacker uses ... this unfinished symbol here,” she pointed to the middle of Julian's chest, “looks like wings, doesn't it? Maybe some kind of bird – ”

     “A hawk,” Harry said, closing his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to sink back into the dark silence of the void and disappear altogether. The baby pressed Severus's image into his mind again and again, asking for the very thing that Harry couldn't give him. 

     Hermione squinted. “Yes, I suppose it could be a hawk, but - ”

     A clatter of footsteps interrupted what she was going to say, the sounds originating from the direction of the stairs and growing louder. A wild-eyed Sirius appeared in the doorway, dragging along a frantic Ron who was hanging onto him by the waist. 

     “You're supposed to stay downstairs,” Ron was saying, though he might as well have been talking to himself. “Remember what Julian said before he left? He said not to reveal yourself to - ”

     Sirius seemed to gain strength as he spotted Julian on the bed, and he shook Ron off as easily as brushing a speck of dust from his robes. Ignoring the two Mori who had never met him, he forced his way into the room and planted himself at Julian's side. He touched a trembling hand to Julian's face and Julian jolted as if he'd been electrocuted, his blank stare vanishing as he slowly turned his head to look up at Sirius, still not talking, but gaining colour in his cheeks as he drifted back towards true consciousness. 

     Sirius grew pale as he studied the intricate wounds carved into Julian's chest. “What happened to him?”

     “You're only in the way, Black,” Severus said, deflecting his question with a glare. “Go to your room and I'll tell you everything once we're done here.

     Ron slowly backed out of the room, not wanting to be caught in the line of fire once the two longtime enemies started battling it out. Harry wished he could duck out as well, but he doubted it would be wise to leave Sirius alone in a room with both Severus and Khiasa.

     “I'm not a child, Snivellus!

     “Yet you imitate one so well ...”

     “What if it was Harry lying in this bed? Would you be content to wait in another room while other people were taking care of him? Where were you, anyway? Or _you_?” Sirius lashed out at Khiasa. “Why weren't you protecting him? If only I weren't stuck here, if I'd been able to go with him ...”

     The pain in Sirius's voice sent another stab of guilt into Harry's heart, but his immediate concern was Khiasa's reaction to meeting the real Sirius – not the dog but the pureblood wizard, the one Julian had chosen as his mate. He could see Khiasa's stone-face cracking as he put two and two together. Without Lisette on hand to keep everyone calm and enforce civil behaviour, it was up to Harry to keep the peace.

     “Everyone but Sirius, Severus and Hermione should leave,” he said, pushing himself to his feet despite his wobbly legs. The morion who'd helped him gave a quick bow and obediently departed, but Khiasa wasn't so easy to order around.

     “Your name is Sirius.” He spoke in low, measured tones, but his poker face had been ripped away to reveal anger and disgust, his shadows gathering behind him like a large, black predator poised to strike.

     Sirius met his gaze without flinching. “Yes.”

     “Khiasa, I want you to leave,” Harry said more forcefully, holding on to the back of the chair as he prepared to intervene, though he wasn't sure what he could do to stop an instinct-driven morion like Khiasa.

     Khiasa gritted his teeth against some inner impulse but refused to comply with Harry's order. “Are you Julian's mate?”

     Sirius glared at Khiasa, his gray gaze as sharp as steel, but he gave no answer except to take one of Julian's hands in his own. Julian's mouth opened but the only sound he made was a sigh, his fingers curling around Sirius's hand.

     “Answer me!” Khiasa's roar sent Hermione running out of the room, presumably to get help though Harry couldn't be sure it wasn't just fear that lit a fire under her. Khiasa lost focus, watching her go with a rueful expression, but then he turned back to Sirius and asked in a more temperate tone, “Are you his mate?”

     Sirius held Julian's gaze for a long, lingering moment, then faced Khiasa with a small but determined smile. “Yes, I am.”

_Your friend just sealed his fate ... and in turn, I believe he has prevented a great tragedy._

     [I'm not in the mood for cryptic comments,] Harry said, closing his eyes against a wave of exhaustion, too weary to wonder what tragedy Vala referred to this time. The gloom and doom of the spirit world grated on his already strained nerves.

_Yes, yes, forgive me. In any case, you might want to stop Khiasa before he kills your godfather._

     [What?] Harry opened his eyes to see a blur of black lunge towards Sirius, Khiasa on the attack, but a shout of “ _Incarcerous_!” from the doorway sent Khiasa tumbling to the floor, his limbs bound tightly against his body by several sturdy ropes as he thrashed about on the floor. 

     Hermione panted softly as she lowered her wand and slumped against the door frame, Rauko hovering just behind her, looking peeved that he'd been called away from Lisette's bedside.

     “Khiasa,” he said sternly, and that was all it took for Khiasa to stop fighting his bonds, though Harry suspected Rauko was continuing to admonish Khiasa silently to avoid adding to his humiliation. Rauko looked around the room, taking special note of Sirius and Julian, and the now-conspicuous bandage on Sirius's neck.

     “I want an explanation,” he said, fixing his violet gaze on Harry, “ _for everything_ ... but that can wait until tonight. Julian told us all about your meeting, Harry. We can discuss these matters then. I am sending Wen back in to collect Khiasa, and I want Severus to take Harry back to their room so he can get some rest. Miss Granger and Mr. Black can stay with Julian until a healer is able to tend to him. Is that understood?”

     Harry nodded along with the others, too relieved that a crisis had been averted to care that Rauko was ordering them around. He didn't wait for Severus, repelled by the idea of Severus feeling obligated to help him due to Rauko's orders. He said a solemn goodbye to Sirius then squeezed past Hermione as he stepped out into the hallway.

     [Harry, wait.]

     But he kept walking, concentrating very hard on putting one foot in front of the other, this simple action made harder due to the baby's insistence on playing a Severus-centric slide-show in his brain. [You don't have to help me. I'm fine on my own.]

     [I highly doubt that,] came the biting reply, snapping the slender thread of Harry's patience. What did Severus want from him?

     He dropped the intimacy of mindspeak. “I'm leaving you alone, so why don't you return the favor? If you want to be useful, you can go check on Dorian. Better yet, _I'll_ check on Dorian. You're going to be too busy finding yourself a new room to sleep in.”

     “Damn it, Potter, listen to me!”

     “Oh, so now you want to have a conversation? Funny, you weren't so keen on communicating with me a few minutes ago. Anyway, I'm too tired to talk.”

     “You're not too tired to argue.”

     “Arguing with you is as natural for me as breathing. I'm not sure why I ever stopped.”

     “Harry, it isn't what you think. I wasn't shutting you out as a punishment.”

     Harry spun around. “And why shouldn't I be punished? It's all my fault, right? Lisette and Julian .. they're hurt because of me! People died today because of me, Severus. I know it and you know it, so just let me deal with that alone.”

     Severus grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him down the hallway, deaf to Harry's numerous and often profane protests as he forced Harry into their room and slammed the door shut. 

     “If you've brought me here to yell at me, you might as well save your breath because – ”

     Severus saved them both the trouble of talking as he pushed Harry back against the door and kissed him, hard and quick, pulling away almost immediately before groaning and claiming a second kiss, then a third, never allowing himself to linger, as if he were fighting some darker urge, but they were the sort of kisses that drove all thought, rational or irrational, from Harry's head and left him clinging to the front of Severus's robes, gasping for air – or was it for more of Severus's mouth? He couldn't be sure ...

     [It was the hardest thing I ever did in my life, leaving you alone in that room with Lucius, knowing his intentions, fearing the worst could happen and he might take you. I would rather go back to spying than ever do that again. It was unimaginably painful, Harry, and all I wanted was to have you back in my arms, but then Julian – ] He sighed, running his hands through Harry's hair, then down over his neck and shoulders, indulging his need to touch him. [I had to leave you for a second time – it was too dangerous to take you with me – and when I came back, I knew I had to focus on Julian, but all I could think about was you. It baffles me, the way you can shatter my control with a look, with a simple touch of your thoughts to mine. That's why I had to keep you at a distance ... but I couldn't bear to have you out of my sight, either, even after Granger pointed out how ill you looked. Selfishly, I wanted you with me, no matter how it affected you.]

     Harry hadn't found his voice yet, struck dumb by Severus's passionate kisses, but the glint of jade in his eyes and the unrestrained flow of his thoughts spoke more of his guilt and self-loathing than he could have conveyed in mere words. As relieved as he was to know the reason behind Severus's coldness, there was still the matter of what had happened at the clinic ...

     [None of this is your fault.] Severus cupped Harry's face in his hands, dark gaze intent as he stared into the ever-shifting green of Harry's eyes. [ _None of it_. If it weren't for Rauko's meddling nature, you would have left that picture here and none of this would have happened. You were honouring Aiya's wish to remain hidden by keeping it a secret. There isn't any shame in that. If you want to blame someone, blame the wizards who attacked the clinic. Blame Lucius and his obsession with the Mori. _That_ is where the true fault lies. You did nothing wrong.] 

     Harry wanted to believe him but old scars ran deep. [I should have realized the photograph was a fake. How many people were hurt today because of me? How many d – ] but he couldn't bring himself to say it. [I'm meant to be better than this ... I'm meant to help protect people, not lead them into traps.]

     [You aren't 'meant' to be anything. Contrary to what Albus has programmed into that thick skull of yours, you are in _no way_ responsible for the saving the world, Harry. Frankly, I would rather you didn't even try.]

     [But – ]

     [I know what you're thinking and I want you to stop. Do you for one moment believe your mother saved your life just so you could throw it away? Forget about Dumbledore's plans and Rauko's schemes. Your life is your own, Harry. It doesn't belong to the wizarding world or to the Mori or even to me, as much as it pains me to give you the freedom to be reckless. I want you to erase the word Saviour from your vocabulary. It doesn't exist. You are nobody's Saviour, Harry Potter, and if you ever try to be one, I _will_ punish you. Thoroughly.]

     Harry allowed Severus's words to sink in. To be free of everyone's expectations of him – to know that he could be _just Harry_ , and that would be enough – had always seemed like a far-off dream, ephemeral and unattainable, but Severus made it sound possible. His troubled frown relaxed into a tired smile. [So my life doesn't belong to you, but every other part of me does?]

     “Every other part,” Severus repeated in a whisper, stealing a longer, deeper kiss from Harry's lips as his territorial nature took over, [so no more seducing our enemies. I trust you, I do, but I can't take another sight like the one I saw today. You're _mine_ , Harry, and I don't share. If I thought your body could handle it, I'd claim you as many times as it took to teach you who you belong to, but I'd rather not have you passing out in the middle of things. We'll leave that particular lesson for when you're feeling better, yes?]

     Harry nodded sleepily, willing to agree to anything that Severus said in that black-velvet voice of his, quietly obedient as he let Severus strip him of his jeans and t-shirt, as well as the scandalous stockings, and help him into bed. He didn't want to let go of Severus's warmth, convinced that it would keep the nightmares at bay, but Severus had no intention of joining him in their bed. He pulled the covers up to Harry's chin and gave him one last kiss.

     “I'll wake you up in time for the meeting.”

     “Where are you going?”

     “To tell Rauko about Aiya. I'm afraid that's one piece of information that can't wait until tonight.”

     He stroked his fingers over Harry's cheek, reluctant to part from him, but he soon pulled away, hardening his expression into the cold indifference he once projected daily as a professor at Hogwarts. Knowing it was only a mask, Harry could look up at that expression with a feeling of nostalgia, recalling their many altercations with unexpected fondness. It felt like ages since they'd been merely teacher and student. If Aiya had never come to Grimmauld Place, had never taken Harry into her family, he and Severus might still be bickering in the halls of Hogwarts, Harry oblivious to their connection and Severus fighting it with all his might. He owed his sister so much ...

     “Do you think Rauko will find her before Lucius and Aleksei do?”

     Severus looked away. Harry could tell Severus didn't want to give him false hope, but neither did he want to say anything that would add more weight to Harry's sagging spirits.

     “Don't answer that,” Harry said, letting him off the hook. He curled up under the covers and closed his eyes. He could feel Severus hovering above him, hesitating, concern giving way to growing tension, and suddenly Harry's body was responding to that unspoken desire, making the blankets unbearably hot, so hot that any second he would have to throw them off and then Severus would – 

     “Get some rest,” Severus growled, and then he was gone, perhaps sensing the limits of his own resolve in leaving Harry alone and choosing to act quickly before he could change his mind. 

_My sister could be Lucius's next victim and here I am safe in bed wishing Severus would fuck me._ Harry burrowed underneath the covers, accepting the uncomfortable heat as a kind of penance. That rousing romp in the exam room should have satisfied him, right? And how could he even think of sex when people were hurt or dead and Aiya was next on Lucius's list of Mori to stalk and capture? He'd spent so much of the day in a daze, his nerves deadened, his instincts dulled, but now his body burned with a lust so strong that he couldn't think about anything else but being with his mate.

_Now I know how Severus felt. Is it healthy to need someone this much?_

_Some say love is a sickness,_ Vala said, his low, rich voice throwing unintentional fuel on the fire as it inevitably reminded Harry of Severus. _Rauko once called it a weapon, capable of dealing a fatal blow to anyone foolish enough to engage it. I believe he has come to think differently, though ..._

_Love as a weapon._ Those words stuck in his brain, though Harry wasn't sure why he found them so captivating. He fell asleep to the sound of Vala's voice as the spirit told him tales of the days when the Mori lived freely in the world, and of two young morions who wanted nothing more than to spend every waking moment in each others' arms, only to realize too late that the Fate that brought them together would all-too-soon become the terrible force that tore them apart.

     As he slept, Harry dreamed only of Severus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GLOSSARY
> 
>  
> 
> **Wen, soora utinuamin. Khiasa, vakha verne'amin** – Wen, follow my son. Khiasa, guard my wife.  
>  **Heruamin** – literally means 'my lord'; an interesting(?) tidbit: Khiasa is using an intimate form of 'my lord' when addressing Rauko – for other Mori, the correct term would be **heru en amin** which is the formal way of addressing a leader. You may notice that Rauko uses the same intimate forms when talking about Harry and Lisette. When the possessive pronoun is directly linked to the noun, it implies intimacy or closeness. To be formal, the possessive pronoun and the noun are separated by a preposition (en = of).  
>  **Manke naa Julian?** \- Where is Julian?  
>  **Teru en amin** – my prince  
>  **Manke naa lle** – where are you?  
>  **Ai'toror** – little brother  
>  **utinuamin** – my son  
>  **coi'e'gurtha** – literally translates as “to live in death”; the name the Mori have given to the binding spell ancient wizards would use to enslave them


	54. A Necessary Evil

 

    Severus closed the door to his room with Harry. He stood there, his left hand pressed against the faded wood, his right hand clenched around the knob in a white-knuckled grip, a mere half-turn of his wrist away from opening it again.  
  
     _Some say love is a sickness ..._  
  
    He wrenched his hand off of the knob and pushed away from the door.  
  
    [Don't fill his head with nonsense while I'm gone,] he snapped at Vala, but the spirit seemed determined to ignore him as he carried on in his conversation with Harry, spinning him stories of a time long ago and an ill-fated love.  Severus shoved those soft whispers out of his mind before the weight of Vala's words could sink into his thoughts and take root, careful to keep his mind closed to the spirit but open to Harry so there would be no more misunderstandings.  
  
    Grimmauld Place seemed a grimmer, darker place than usual, shadows spilling out of doorways and forming swirling black puddles on the floor, most of the lamps unlit and the candles snuffed in deference to the Mori. Only the hallways remained illuminated so the humans wouldn't trip over each other or the occasional Black Family heirloom. Strangers would peek out of the rooms of the wounded as Severus walked past them, greeting him with voices that tugged at his memory, their hands placed over their hearts as they gave him quick, shallow bows, an informal version of the bow that he'd seen several of them direct towards Harry earlier.   
  
     _Not that Harry noticed anything_. Severus raked his hand through his hair, unsettled by what appeared to be Harry's growing lack of awareness. How had that dark-haired wizard managed to sneak up on Harry in the exam room? What if Severus hadn't shown up when he did? Harry could have been seriously injured or even abducted ...  
  
     ... _he'll take us_ ... _he'll give me to Lucius_ ...  
  
    "It was a dream, only a dream," Severus told himself, refusing to accept Harry's terrified prediction that Aleksei would succeed in capturing both Harry and Julian. He needed to believe that Harry's vision of light, pain and Lucius had been a nightmare and nothing more. To believe otherwise meant living in a constant state of fear, not unlike his childhood when his father's wrath had been a looming but unpredictable threat.  
  
     _What a common refrain that's becoming -- just a dream, only a dream -- but saying it over and over again doesn't make it true._ Vala intruded on Severus's private misgivings with ease, almost as if he were Severus's conscience.   
  
    [What happened to 'story time' with Harry?]  
  
     _I am multitasking, as the young ones say._  
  
    [I don't need you in my head right now. In fact, I thought I'd thrown you out.] Severus hesitated outside of the room where Rauko watched over Lisette. [But if you insist on being helpful, why don't you talk to Rauko in my place so I can go back to Harry?]  
  
    Vala's sudden, silent retreat from Severus's mind was all the answer he needed.  
  
     _Predictable._   He gave a cursory knock on the door before opening it and stepping into the room.   
  
    Rauko sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with his comatose wife held gently in his arms, her head resting on his chest. The burns on Lisette's back had been tended to since Severus last saw her, the blistered skin covered by glistening layers of what looked like cobwebs. The academic in Severus filed the sight away for later, when he could research this particular Mori remedy properly.   
  
    "Don't let in the light," Rauko growled at Severus as he shielded Lisette's face from the lamplight that filtered in from the hallway.   
  
    Severus closed the door behind him, throwing the room back into darkness. He experienced that same twinge of disbelief that always struck him during those first few seconds of pitch black, expecting blindness only to find that his eyesight remained as keen as it was in light -- sharper, even. He hadn't been a Mori long enough for the novelty to wear off.   
  
    "Didn't I say that explanations could wait until tonight? You must have something vitally important to tell me if it tore you away from Harry's side." Rauko held his own mate close, a hint of disapproval in his voice, and Severus suddenly felt as if he'd failed some unspoken test.   
  
    "I would much rather be with Harry than in this room talking with you," he said in a steady voice that masked his irritation, "but I need to speak with you and I refuse to willingly give you access to my mind, so here I am."  
  
    "Are you holding a grudge against me for controlling you today? You should be thanking me ..."  
  
    "If my paralysis had led to Lucius abducting Harry, I would be _gutting_ you right now," Severus hissed, unable to keep his temper leashed.   
  
    Rauko smiled indulgently at him. "You would try... but you're several centuries too early to be challenging me, Severus. Be grateful that I stopped you before you did something foolish."  
  
    Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Whatever reasons Rauko had for constantly provoking him like this, he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a response. If it hadn't been for Rauko's clever manipulation of Severus's feelings for Harry, he doubted Rauko would give him half as much trouble as he did, but Severus's ability to control himself when it came to his mate had been seriously impaired for some time now.   
  
    "I came to speak to you about Aiya," he said, calm once more. "She and Draco are in danger of being caught."  
  
    The playful smile vanished from Rauko's lips. "What do you mean?"  
  
    Severus quickly explained about the photograph, from its origins to its role in the attack on the clinic. "We can place their last location in Stuttgart, Germany as of three days ago. Now that his plan to track and capture Harry has ended badly, I am sure Lucius will concentrate his efforts on finding Aiya. He has the advantage of an exact location to focus on, so our chances of finding her first are minimal, but better for us to have somewhere to start looking for her than to attempt a blind rescue."  
  
    Rauko didn't speak at first, but Severus took his silence as a sign of orders being dispatched rather than a sign of shock or hesitation. No doubt there were several Mori en route to Stuttgart already.   
  
    "Thank you for telling me this now instead of waiting until tonight at the meeting." Rauko didn't look up at Severus as he spoke, choosing to watch Lisette instead. "If that is all, you may go."  
  
    That's it? Severus had expected a tirade of epic proportions from Rauko after having such a big secret kept from him, but Rauko had accepted the revelation of the photograph without a word of anger or blame. Even his reaction to the idea of Aiya being in danger was strangely subdued. Severus couldn't tell if Rauko was taking the news exceptionally well or if he was simply showing Severus the ultimate poker face. Either way, Severus didn't want to risk leaving Harry open to criticism from his adopted father.  
  
    "I want to be clear that I won't tolerate you making Harry feel guilty for keeping the photograph a secret."  
  
    "I wouldn't dream of it," Rauko said softly. He glanced up at Severus, a wry smile on his lips. "I would never condemn Harry for showing loyalty to his sister."  
  
    "You wouldn't?" Severus couldn't help but prod further, not convinced that Rauko would leave the matter alone. "Wouldn't this be a prime opportunity for you to use Harry's guilt to manipulate him into doing whatever you want?"  
  
    Rauko's smile twisted in self-mockery. "My monstrous ways do not extend to torturing my children. Or do you think you are the only one who could sense Harry's pain? Do you honestly believe me capable of twisting the knife deeper?"  
  
    "I believe you capable of anything if it serves your purpose."  
  
    "Then why would I bother listening to your lectures? If I am as ruthless as you say, your threats are meaningless to me -- _laughable_. I will deal with my son as I see fit."  
  
    "Just like you dealt with Aiya? We all know how that turned out ..."  
  
    Rauko's eyes flashed, but having Lisette in his arms anchored him to the bed. "I will _not_ apologize for the choices I have made. I did what was necessary to protect my family." His eyes narrowed to slits of indigo, a cruel smile curving his lips as the demon emerged from behind that angelic face. "You see, I have done horrible things in the name of love, Severus. That particular emotion can drive a person to commit unspeakable acts ... such as breaking a man's neck for daring to threaten a mate. How are we different, you and I?"  
  
    Severus stiffened. Rauko had to be referring to the wizard from the clinic. The way his head had struck the desk with such force, it was possible that his neck had snapped. If so, Severus had killed a disarmed man. He tried to remember what had gone through his mind as he'd thrown the man across the room, but the only thing he could recall was a thick, hot haze where only Harry's safety mattered. He couldn't muster any remorse for what he'd done. Surely killing a Death Eater ranked low on the spectrum of 'unspeakable acts.' It rankled him to be compared to Rauko, though.  
  
    "I applaud your thoroughness," Rauko continued, "but you should prepare yourself for what the future holds. To what lengths will you go for the ones you love? How much filth and blood can you endure? Think of your brother and the binding that Julian might suffer. Those chains are worse than death, Severus. Are you strong enough to show him mercy?"  
  
    Severus flinched, his shadows curling tighter around his body as if to shield him from Rauko's words. "Are you asking me to kill Julian if Aleksei completes the spell?"  
  
    "I only ask that you _consider_ it."  
  
    "No." The word popped out of Severus's mouth without any sort of rational thought behind it, only a gut reaction to the horror of what Rauko suggested.  "No, I refuse to even consider such a flawed method of 'saving' Julian or Aiya, or anyone afflicted with this curse. There must be a way to reverse the spell or neutralize it, some solution that no one has thought of yet."  
  
    "There are only two ways to break this spell: the death of the wizard who cast it, or the death of his victim. Even if you attack the wizard responsible, you will only find yourself fighting his victim. A bound Mori will sacrifice his life for that of his new master. It is much kinder to give him a quick, early death than to force him to suffer the indignity of throwing his life away for the very person who violated him."  
  
    "It would be difficult to free him, but not impossible. Isn't the chance worth taking if it means --"  
  
    "I took that chance, Severus," Rauko cut him off with a snarl. "I held onto my hope while the enslaved were used as bait to lure in new victims. I watched as sons and daughters fought against their parents. I saw Mori driven to murder the friends and family who tried so desperately to save them. I saw fledglings raped of their innocence as their parents fell to the binding spell, spreading its poison to their children. The day I let my foolish hope die was the day the Mori took their destiny back into their own hands. As a people, we have come to terms with this. We even teach our fledglings how to die with dignity rather than live in slavery, but in the event that the spell is completed a sacrifice _must be made_. When it comes to _coi'e'gurtha_ , no other option remains ..."  
  
     _Sacrifice_. Severus loathed that word. He tried to imagine dealing the killing blow to Julian as his brother resigned himself to death, or looking into Aiya's smiling face as she told him it was okay to let her go. He tried to imagine Harry ...  
  
     _No._  
  
     _No, that was unimaginable._  
  
    "You may have given up, but I won't. I believe there is always another option," Severus said before he turned and walked to the door, hesitating just before he opened it to add, "and _that_ is how we are different."  
  
    He left the room without another word.  
  
  
  
  


*     *     *     *     *     *     *  


  
  
  
  
    Rauko felt the tension seep out of his body as soon as Severus was gone and he had no need for masks and manipulations.   
  
     _Aiyana._  
  
    His _Helin_ , his beautiful daughter. The loss of her would break him.   
  
     _I failed her, Elspeth. I failed you both_. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to the top of his wife's hair, breathing in her scent and wishing she were awake to soothe him with her gentle voice and tender touch. _Am I selfish for wanting you to share in this pain, a'maelamin? You are the strong one ... you have always been the strong one ..._  
  
    He slumped back against the headboard, his mind cluttered with anxious voices, each vying for his attention when all he truly wanted was a single moment of silence, a frozen fragment of time in which he could shed his past and shun his future, free of the fear and the hate.  
  
    "Chains worse than death," he murmured, "and no mercy to be found."  
  
     _Would you accept mercy if it was shown to you?_  
  
    " _Vala_." The name left Rauko's lips like a prayer. A pained smile came unbidden to his face. [Are you pitying me? Is that why you break your silence?]  
  
     _I am feeling ... nostalgic. Our young Harry reminds me so much of the morion you once were._  
  
    [And Severus ... he is more like you than I ever dreamed possible.]  
  
     _As similar as they are to us, we must ensure that they do not repeat our mistakes._  
  
    Rauko's bitter laugh sent a shiver through Lisette, his pain reaching her even through the cocoon of that deep, dark slumber. He held her close and stroked her hair, comforting her while carrying on his silent conversation with Vala. [I don't recall you making any mistakes.]  
  
     _I forced you to make a terrible choice._  
  
    Rauko closed his eyes, willing the memories away. [You are not to blame for what happened any more than Aiya and Julian are to blame for the curses they will bear.]  
  
     _Yet you blame yourself for my death._  
  
    Rauko did not bother to deny it. His hands were stained with the blood of thousands, but only one death had ever scarred his soul.   
  
    Vala's sigh sent an ache through Rauko's chest. _You know Julian's wishes. Long ago, you gave him your word that it would be your hand that takes his life should he fall victim to coi'e'gurtha. It is no different with Aiyana. Why would you ask Severus to commit an act that you plan to perform yourself?_  
  
    [I needed to give him a push in the right direction. He will not accept his limitations as I did; he will surpass them.]  
  
     _You must be quite confident that he will succeed._  
  
     Rauko opened his eyes, his certainty providing him a measure of peace as he stared into the inscrutable darkness. [If the blood in his veins runs true, I know he will.] 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **coi'e'gurtha** \-- literally translates as "to live in death"; the name the Mori have given to the binding spell that ancient wizards would use to enslave them  
>  **a'maelamin** \-- Elvish for "beloved"  
>  **helin** \-- Elvish for "violet"; Aiya's middle name


	55. Evernight's Heir

 

     Sirius watched as a tall, stately morwen wrapped the last bandage around the wound on Julian's chest. The healer, a Duskwise named Selene, had made Sirius her assistant, sending everyone else out of the room to give Julian some privacy as she cleaned and disinfected the area of his chest where the spell had carved itself into his flesh. A thorough examination of the rest of his body had revealed two more affected areas: a line of runes down his back and a cluster of half-formed symbols etched onto the nape of his neck.

     "Judging from this, the wizard that attacked Julian was unable to get very far into the ritual before Severus stopped him," Selene said as she secured the bandage. "I have seen worse damage done. Aiyana's scars cover three-quarters of her body."

     "Why is he so ..." Sirius wasn't sure how to describe the way Julian was behaving. The silence, the unfocused expression, the empty gaze ... it was as if Julian wasn't really there, as if he'd retreated into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind and he was reluctant to leave that safe space. The only hints he gave of being aware of his surroundings came when Sirius touched him, but he did not speak, and he never once dropped the barriers in his mind that were shutting Sirius out. Once upon a time, Sirius would have been relieved to have Julian out of his head, but now ...

     "Give him time," Selene said, patting Sirius's arm gently. She had made no comment on the mating mark Sirius wore, and she treated him with the same patience and kindness that she put into her work as a healer. Her tolerance gave Sirius hope, even though the memory of Khiasa's anger and disgust felt like a precursor to future reactions from the Mori when they discovered Julian's chosen mate was a pureblood wizard.

     "I have a few more patients to see. Keep an eye on him and make sure he drinks the tea I made for him. I will check back on him in the morning."

     Sirius waited until she had closed the door behind her before he sat down by Julian's side. He tucked a strand of silky brown hair behind Julian's ear and suddenly Julian was looking at him, a fierce concentration in his gaze that had been absent until Sirius touched him.

     "I won't ask you to talk about it ... not yet, not when it's so fresh in your mind." Sirius hated the silence that hung between them and tried to fill it with words. "I just wish you wouldn't shut me out. You see, I felt it when you closed your mind to me. It was like a right hook to my jaw. Was that to protect me? To keep me from ... knowing what was happening to you?"

     Julian closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in pain.

     "I won't go on about it," Sirius said quickly, panicked by the thought that he was making Julian feel worse, "except to say ... that was when I realised how I felt about you. Not much scares me anymore, but that terrified me. I thought, is he hurt? Is he ... _dead_? And for a moment there I went mad, needing to protect you if you were hurt, or follow you if you were --"

     Julian's eyes flew open; he lifted his hand to Sirius's face and cupped his cheek, shaking his head in a wordless rebuke.

     "No, I know you wouldn't have approved," Sirius said as he leaned into that touch. "It stunned me that the idea even crossed my mind. I've lost so many people over the years, people that I loved more than my own life, but that was the first time I ever thought, _'I don't want to be here without him.'_ What do you think that means?"

     Julian's lips parted, but he didn't answer Sirius's question. 

     "Please say something," Sirius whispered, bringing Julian's hand to his lips and kissing his palm.

     Julian sighed, watching Sirius beneath dark lashes, his eyes brightening to a soft burnished gold. He pulled his hand away from Sirius's mouth, only to brush his knuckles over the scar in the crook of Sirius's neck. He smiled when Sirius shivered beneath his touch, the first sign of happiness he'd shown since waking. His voice, when he finally spoke, came out husky and broken, but hopeful ...

     "Was I dreaming, or did you really admit to being my mate?"   


 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

 

     Harry woke to the scritch-scratch of quill on parchment. He stared at the ceiling for several minutes, comforted by the sound of Severus writing. It was such a domestic moment, so ordinary and familiar, that he could almost believe that this was his only reality, and Aleksei and the clinic were just nightmares that could easily be vanquished by a good night's sleep.

     He held onto that illusion for as long as he could, then shattered it with a question. [What are you writing?]

     [Notes.]

     [Notes on what?]

     [ ........]

     It was such a pointed silence that Harry propped himself up on his elbows and glared at Severus, repeating his question aloud. "Notes. On. _What_?"

     [ _Coi'e'gurtha_.]

     Harry frowned. [But why?]

     He regretted the question as soon as he asked it. He knew _why_ \-- he felt the sting of _why_ whenever he thought of Aiya -- but what he really meant was, why _now_?

     The scratch of the quill stopped.

     [I suppose … I want to believe in impossible odds as much as you do.]

     Harry eased himself back down on the bed, resting his head on his pillow. _‘Discovering_ _a way to counter Coi’e’gurtha’_ ranked high on his list of things that were probably impossible ( _‘falling out of love with Severus’_ was number one), but if anyone could make that discovery, it was his mate. 

     The sound of the quill resumed.

_Severus is writing ... the baby is calm and quiet ... Dorian is napping ... Ron and Hermione are eating supper ... Sirius is worried about Julian ... Julian hasn't dropped his barriers ... Rauko and Lisette are_ \--

     Harry shook himself. He'd been checking in on each member of his extended family, touching his mind to theirs and gleaning their thoughts, but it had been an unconscious gesture, so subtle that he wasn't sure any of them were aware of his actions -- no, Rauko was aware, and Severus too -- but the others hadn't responded at all, not even the slightest acknowledgement that they'd felt Harry's presence. It had felt so natural, even when he'd tapped into his best friends' minds -- was that a normal extension of their strong friendship? And he'd eavesdropped on Sirius, too. He couldn't recall a time before this when he'd known exactly what any of them were thinking, and he'd never had their voices in his own head ... 

_That wasn't communicating through a bond_ , he realized with a pang of guilt. _That was me wanting to know something and just taking the information from their minds without asking._

     [I wouldn't let it trouble you, Potter. You stopped yourself before it went any further.]

     [Comforting me after I've done something wrong? That's so unlike you ...]

     [I'm not your professor anymore. The only place I can threaten to expel you from is our bed, and that would be punishing me, not you.]

     [Wouldn't that be punishing both of us?]

     A smouldering glance over his shoulder was all the reply Severus gave.

     It seemed a change had taken place while Harry slept; he heard it in the way the spirits’ voices rose and fell in the back of his mind, nothing more than ocean waves that lapped at the shores of his consciousness only to pull away before they overwhelmed him. He could pluck a single voice from that ocean, or he could hold them all at bay, or he could even let them drown his mind with their whispers, but it was all at his command. The control he’d felt at the clinic, the way he’d manipulated Lucius, was no longer foreign to him.

_... but nothing I've done has prevented any of the bad stuff from happening. Not on Halloween, not with Aiya, and not at the clinic ..._

     What if he wasn't the central figure everyone made him out to be? What if they had it wrong? All of Voldemort's attempts to kill him, all of Dumbledore's efforts to keep him safe and train him well, all of the wizarding world's focus on a victory that had been his mother's triumph, not Harry's -- none of these things necessarily added up to Harry being the one who would win this war. If Harry was taken out of the equation, what would the new outcome be? He’d spent most of his life allowing others to lead him, bending to their whims – but not now, not if he could prevent it.

     “My life is my own,” he said, not sure if he was speaking to himself or to Severus or to the dark shadows clinging to the ceiling.

     [So you _do_ listen to what I say,] Severus said.

     Harry slowly sat up. [I know we said we wouldn’t make any decisions based on fear …]

     Silence again, but this time Severus placed the quill back in the inkwell and turned to look at Harry.

     [We can’t put it off any longer, Severus. We have to make a choice.]

 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

 

     "If you're going to sleep, you should have just stayed in bed," Sirius said, his gruff tone belied by a tender smile as he looked down at Julian resting his head against his shoulder. 

     Julian buried his face in the crook of Sirius's neck and breathed deeply, his only reply to Sirius’s affectionate chiding. He had insisted on attending Harry's meeting despite the discomfort caused by his wounds, and Sirius had obliged by helping him down the stairs and making him comfortable on the plushest sofa in the room. They were the first to arrive, and Julian kept dozing off as they waited for the others, lulled towards sleep by the warmth of Sirius's body against his side.

     "I didn't want to stay in that room alone," he murmured at last against Sirius's throat. 

     "What is he doing out of bed? You shouldn't have let him come down here, Black." 

     Severus swept into the room with a scowl; Harry lagged behind, hovering in the doorway with a distracted frown, a magnet for the room's shadows. 

     "He was determined to be here," Sirius said defensively. "He doesn't back down once he decides what he wants."

     "And no one knows that better than you, eh?" Julian pressed a kiss against his throat. Sirius turned red and looked away. 

     Severus snorted and took a seat next to the sofa, leaving the space next to Julian open for Harry, but Harry continued to stall on the threshold.

_I don't think I'm ready for this_ , he thought, wavering in his resolve.

_Caught in the middle of a war with a child on the way, you don't really have a choice_ , Vala reminded him. 

_No, I **do** have a choice_ , Harry replied as he straightened his shoulders, _and I won't apologize for my decisions, even if the others don't agree. I know this is the right choice -- for me, for my family, for everyone._

_You are so like him ..._

_Like who?_ Harry wondered as he crossed the threshold and walked over to the sofa, but Vala didn't answer.

     "Khiasa won't be attending," Severus was saying as Harry sat down next to Julian, "so it looks like you'll live another day, Black."

     "That's not funny," Julian said. "Sirius could have been seriously injured."

     "Exactly, Snape, so ... wait. _I_ could have been injured? What about Khiasa? You don't think I could win in a fight with him?"

     " ... I didn't say that," Julian said, but his hesitant answer did little to soothe Sirius's bruised ego.

     "You'd be wise to shake the dust off your old schoolbooks and study up on self-defence," Severus said. "The Mori have better things to worry about right now, but they won't be turning a blind eye to your relationship forever."

     Sirius fidgeted in his seat, rubbing a hand self-consciously over his scar. 

     "Rauko has already given his approval, so the others will follow suit," Julian said, glaring at Severus as he added, [You idiot! He's finally coming around to the idea of being my mate. _Don't ruin this for me_.]

     But Severus continued to provoke his brother, his calculated gaze taking in the way Julian's anger brightened his eyes and brought colour to his pale cheeks. A furious Julian was preferable to a pallid, sickly one. "Oh, and did he say that Sirius could be turned?"

     A muscle twitched in Julian's jaw as he answered through clenched teeth, "Not exactly."

     "Because turning a pureblood wizard would never be accepted, isn't that right?"

     Sirius perked up, his curiosity overcoming his doubts. "Lisette is a witch and she was turned. And then there's you and Harry."

     "Lisette is a Muggle-born witch," Severus said, "not a pureblood, and Harry and I are half-bloods."

     "It's plain hypocrisy, is what it is," Julian said, but then his fury seemed to die out and he sagged against Sirius with a sigh, "but there are still many Mori who hate and fear purebloods. Maybe it's hopeless after all ..."

     "As if I'd let some outdated Mori prejudice keep my godfather from being turned," Harry said darkly, startling the other three men. He'd been rehearsing what he would say during the meeting over and over in his mind, so sombre and quiet that even Severus had assumed he wasn't listening to their conversation, but maybe mental multi-tasking was another innate Evernight skill he'd just discovered. "I'll find someone to turn him ... or I'll do it myself."

     Severus frowned. "Why does that tone sound so familiar? And why did it send shivers up my spine?"

     "You mean my voice doesn't always give you shivers?" Harry asked with a pout, looking up at Severus with wounded apple-green eyes.

     Sirius did his best to get them all back on topic. "If -- and this is a big if -- I wanted to be turned, why couldn't Julian do it?"

     Julian chuckled and squeezed Sirius in a tight hug. "Isn't that sweet? Sirius would even brave the taboo of incest to be with me."

     "What?!" Sirius looked like he wanted to pry Julian off of him, but was reluctant to do anything that might exacerbate his injuries.

     Harry laughed at the sight. "To turn someone is to adopt him, remember? If Julian turned you that would make you brothers." 

     "And you'd be Severus's brother, too," Julian said.

     "I ask you to kindly refrain from saying such things, even as a joke."

     "For once, I agree with Snape."

     "I'll find a way to turn him that will satisfy everyone," Harry said in a firm, confident voice that suggested the problem was solved and further discussion was unnecessary, unaware that both Severus and Julian were giving him puzzled looks. He'd gone back to thinking about the meeting, sorting through all the issues at hand and approving or dismissing them as necessary talking points, but he found it harder and harder to focus as more attendees walked through the door and the room started to fill up. Each new Mori face he saw brought names and statistics unbidden to his mind.

_Chane ... Duskwise ... son of Selene, who turned Lisette ... works at the clinic as a healer ..._

_Aiko, a Shadowclaw, and Satya, a Warsong ... mates ... Satya fought at the clinic ... Aiko shadows Chane ..._

     His barriers were securely in place, his only trespass being the stray brush of his mind against Severus's, so this wasn't the same as when he'd shoved his way into his friends' thoughts. This felt more like remembering, as if he'd always known that Aiko was an only child and that Satya's mother was one of the oldest Evernights still living, second only to Rauko. Being surrounded by so many of his own kind seemed to wake these dormant memories in Harry, highlighting that underlying connection among the Mori in a way he'd never before experienced. Did it take a roomful of Mori to trigger that need for instant familiarity? Or was this simply another side effect of his newfound control?

     Two of the Mori approached him, one of whom Harry recognized: the spiky-haired morion with the ocean-blue eyes. There was a morwen at his side, her dark hair cropped into a pixie cut, her eyes a lighter shade of blue that would shift suddenly to sea-green whenever she smiled. 

_Wen and Zara ... siblings ... Darkshines ... strong fighters ... no mates ... skilled at shadowing ... Dorian's aunt and uncle ... Wen is mischievous but loyal to a fault ... Zara is unpredictable, the cunning one ... these two would give the Weasley twins a run for their money ..._

     Harry ignored the rest of the little footnotes cluttering up his mind, preferring to learn the rest of it the old-fashioned way. Knowing everything at the start took all the fun out of meeting new Mori. 

     "You were the one who helped me at the clinic. I'm sorry I didn't thank you when I saw you again upstairs, but --"

     "No, I understand," the morion said, giving Julian a quick glance before smiling at Harry. "My name is Wen, and this is my sister Zara. Dorian's father, Andrew, is our _ai'toror_."

     Wen's use of the present tense when speaking of his murdered brother triggered conflicting emotions in Harry. For the Mori, death could not break the ties between loved ones; as a spirit, Andrew continued to share in his siblings' lives, able to talk and laugh with them or share in their sorrows. That small acknowledgement of Andrew's constant presence in his brother's life comforted Harry, but it also sharpened the ache in his heart when he thought of Aiya.

     " _Tarenamin_ ," Zara said, bowing to Harry with her hands pressed over her heart.

     "Too familiar," Wen told her in a stage whisper as he executed his own bow.

     Zara shrugged off her brother's admonition, a smile curling the corners of her mouth. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, _tarenamin_. It's one of my many bad habits."

     "Oh? I ... I'm not offended," Harry assured her, though he wondered if he should be.

     "I'll be offended in his place," Julian said. The teasing grin he gave Zara was far more natural than the smile he'd forced for Severus. "I've been waiting for a good excuse to be grumpy."

     "Why wait for an excuse? You're adorable when you're grumpy," Zara said as she bent down to kiss Julian's cheek, but Harry noticed that beneath the playful banter, Zara was looking at Julian with true tenderness.

     Sirius looked relieved to see Julian acting more like his usual self, and he tried to prolong the chat with Zara and Wen. "You're both Darkshines, then?"

     "Exceedingly so," Zara said with a laugh. "We are the bane of our Duskwise mother's existence."

     "But we didn't have the typical Darkshine childhood. Our mother served as healer to a community of Blackwings, so we grew up being trained alongside the Blackwing fledglings. Darkshines don't usually become shadows -- as a rule, we prefer being center stage, not behind the scenes -- but Zara and I naturally gravitated to that sort of work due to our upbringing."

     "How old are you?" Harry couldn't help but ask. All the adult Mori he'd met so far were much older than they looked, but Wen and Zara didn't give off that 'old soul' aura that other Mori did.

     "Nineteen," Zara said, then pointed at Wen and said, "Thirty-five."

     "I'll be thirty- _six_ in February," Wen said stiffly.

     Zara laughed and leaned forward to whisper to Harry, "Morions don't like to be reminded of how young they are. If you're under fifty, you're still a fledgling in the eyes of the Elders."

     "We'll go find our seats now," Wen said, dragging his sister away from Harry, though Zara managed to get in a wink before her brother pulled her away.

     "You'll want to watch yourself around that one," Julian whispered to Harry. "When she likes someone, she likes to make them cry."

     "Ahh, a sadist." Harry turned to Severus, his eyes grassy-green with laughter. "You two sound like you'd have a lot in common."

     Severus quirked a brow. [I don't recall any tears on the occasions when I've made you 'cry' ... though I do enjoy that little mewling sound you make while I'm sliding into you nice and slow, and you're digging your nails into my shoulders because all you want to do is c--]

     Harry clapped his hand over Severus's mouth, then he realized how pointless that was and slowly took his hand away, feeling foolish. 

     [--come,] Severus said with a smirk, clearly enjoying Harry's embarrassment.

     [Oh sure, you're not a sadist at all.]

     Soon the room was crowded with Mori (and Harry's head was crowded with names and family trees and the constant chattering of the spirits in the back of his brain), the sea of undimmed faces dotted here and there with an Order member. Ron came in half-carrying Hermione, who looked as if she'd been running herself ragged helping the Mori healers tend to the wounded, a dark splotch of reddish-brown staining the cuff of her right sleeve. They were joined by Dumbledore on a sofa across the room from Harry.

     "Didn't we just do this yesterday?" Tonks asked brightly as she took the seat nearest the door, the last Order member to arrive. The short notice had kept most of them from attending, but Harry felt that this meeting was more important for the Mori than for the Order anyway. Dumbledore could fill the others in later.

     "A lot has happened since then," Harry said quietly. Now that he had everyone together, he wasn't sure where to start. Should they talk about the attack first? He was hesitant to know all the details that had been withheld from him: how it all started, how many were wounded ... and how many had died. He glanced at Julian, wondering if it would be too painful for him to relive his near-capture, but Julian just smiled encouragingly at him.

     [Start at the beginning and go from there,] Rauko advised him gently.

     Harry met his gaze and nodded. Bypassing all the usual formalities, he launched into a re-telling of the day's events, starting with the trip to Gringotts and their discovery in Culpepper's vault. 

     "There was a tremendous amount of research," Hermione gushed, just as excited now as she was then. "Ron and I have been sorting through it after we came back, dividing the Mori-related papers from Culpepper's other projects, but then the attack happened ..."

     She trailed off, and the room fell into a sombre silence. Rauko cleared his throat, absently twisting his wedding band as he prompted Harry to continue.

     "Tell everyone how they followed you to the clinic, Harry."

     Harry took the picture out of his pocket and explained its significance, from how the original had helped him keep track of Aiya to how Aleksei had fooled him with the copy. "When I took the picture with me outside of Grimmauld Place, I gave them the perfect way to track my movements, allowing them to follow me to Gringotts and then to the clinic. It was Severus who realized that the picture I carried was a fake with a tracking spell on it, but by then it was too late."

     Julian plucked the photo out of Harry's fingers and sniffed it, his eyes narrowing at the scent and his free hand pressing against his bandaged chest. The tracking spell had been removed, but a trace of Aleksei's scent lingered. Though Julian's newly-established barriers kept his reaction private, Harry could tell he had to really fight to keep his emotions under control. Sirius put his arm around Julian's shoulders, and that touch seemed to jar Julian out of his memories and back into the present. He wrinkled his nose and held the photo away from him. "Smells like feet."

     Harry snatched it back with a scowl. "That's because it was in my shoe."

     "What happened next?" Tonks asked, perched on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

     "I'm not sure, because I didn't see the attack happen," Harry admitted, and he looked around for a volunteer to take over. If Khiasa had been present, he would have been the most likely candidate to debrief them on the attack, but his absence meant someone else would have to step into the role. Most of the Mori looked as pained as Harry felt in regards to the attack, the violence too fresh in their minds, but then Zara stood up and addressed the room.

     "We were unlucky," she said, her voice soft at first but growing in strength as she went on. "If there had been a Mori in the waiting room when the first wizard entered, the alarm would have been raised. We can scent out a wizard easily, especially a pureblood, so someone could have sent a warning before the attack ever began. Unfortunately, there were only humans in the waiting room. The receptionist told us later that the man who approached her desk didn't speak at first. He looked around for several minutes, then suddenly started asking to see Dr. Fairholm -- Lisette. She told him that Dr. Fairholm wasn't taking any new appointments, but he insisted that he be allowed to speak to the doctor, so the receptionist called through to the exam room where Lisette was finishing up her appointment with Harry and told her about the man. Lisette, sweet woman that she is, decided to spare him a few minutes of her time and headed to the waiting room."

     Zara paused, as if unsure of how to proceed, but then she was plowing ahead. "We think that the wards they placed around the clinic went into effect after Lisette was already interacting with this wizard, because the creation of wards that powerful would have tipped her off that something wasn't right."

     [That must have been what you felt,] Harry said to Severus.

     [Yes ... but why didn't _you_ feel it?] 

     The question, coupled with the grave concern marking Severus's thoughts, was disturbing in its implications.

     "We won't know what really happened between the time she arrived and the time he attacked her until Lisette is able to tell us, but the receptionist revealed that the wizard -- this Aleksei -- seemed surprised when she walked into the room."

_Because she wasn't the same Elspeth Fairholm he'd already met_ , Harry thought.

     "The human patients who survived all tell the same story: one minute they are reading month-old magazines and counting the ceiling tiles, the next minute they see a flash of light and look up to see Lisette flying backwards through the air and crashing into an empty row of chairs. Most of them describe the smell of burnt flesh that filled the air, and the bloodcurdling scream of the woman nearest to where Lisette landed. The patients panicked and started running for the doors, but the exits were suddenly blocked by wizards. Two patients were killed straight away -- cruelly, with cutting curses that painted the walls with their blood -- as a sort of warning to the others. Then they corralled the patients back into the waiting room and began testing them --"

     Zara stopped again, her gaze flicking over to Rauko, and Harry realized that every pause she'd made so far had coincided with a glance at the stone-faced Mori leader. Was he censoring her report? Or was he pressing her to be as blunt as possible, to emphasize the enormity of the threat they all faced?

     "-- testing them with curses to see if they were Mori. From the patients' descriptions and the scent on their bodies, we believe they used Cruciatus, even on the children. We arrived too late to prevent it, hampered by the wards and the wizards who guarded the doors. Khiasa and I were able to find an unwatched window and entered first, followed by Wen and Julian. Others found an opening on the roof that had been overlooked. We kept to shadows once inside and avoided the wizards for as long as we could. Khiasa made it to the waiting room and found Lisette; Julian and I and several others searched the exam rooms for survivors; Wen went to guard Harry. We found three more casualties in the chaos before the wards came down, all human, including our Nenet," her voice broke, and she cleared her throat before going forward, "who was set to be turned soon. She died protecting her adopted family, who were subsequently rescued by Julian just before he was attacked by --"

     "I'd rather not talk about it," Julian broke in with a weary sigh, gesturing at Zara to move on.

     "Yes, my apologies." Another pause, another glance at Rauko, but this time whatever words he pressed into her mind sapped all the tension from her body, her shoulders slumping as she launched into a summary of the rest of the battle. "We took out lights where we could to give us places to hide, and if we found an opportunity to ambush our enemy, we leapt at the chance. We didn't think we had a choice at that point except to fight our way out of the clinic while protecting the survivors, but then the wards came down --"

     "That was Severus," Harry said.

     "-- and we were able to evacuate the Mori through the void, while concentrating our strongest fighters around the human patients and staff. The wizards who did not retreat were quickly disabled. After ensuring that all my charges were safe, I returned for Nenet's body and found Severus and Julian." She grimaced, shook her head as if she could fling the memory out of her mind, then ended with, "Though we had five casualties and numerous injuries ranging from mild to severe, it could have been much worse. Somehow, Lisette prevented them from using any light other than their sunspells against us."

_Clever Lisette_ , Harry thought. _Her spell saved a lot of lives_.

     Rauko waited until Zara had reclaimed her seat next to Wen before fixing his gaze on Harry. "What do we know about this Aleksei?"

     "Well, we now know for a fact that he and Rhys Wynford are half-brothers," Harry said, piecing together all the little fragments of information he'd learned about Aleksei over the past few months, "and since Rhys told me that his father was a Muggle and Aleksei is a pureblood, that means Aleksei is Julia Wynford's son and Culpepper's grandson. He's also a metamorphmagus."

     "He works for the Ministry," Julian added, having been there for one of Harry's conversations with Rhys, "in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

     "Oh! And he went to Durmstrang," Hermoine chimed in, "and he was one of their best students." 

     "No wonder he did such a good job of impersonating Professor Lyr," Ron said.

     "I think there's more to it than that," Harry said, his brow furrowing as his understanding of Aleksei became clearer. "Remember when I asked you to check up on Lyr's background? You said he had a brother who settled in England, a brother who died."

     Hermione nodded. "Marek Lyr. There wasn't much information about him."

     "Didn't they both go to Durmstrang?"

     Hermione frowned. "Yes, but what does that have to do with -- you think there's some relation between Professor Lyr and Aleksei?"

     "Yes ... no .... I'm not sure," Harry said, frustrated that all he could rely on for his theory was pure intuition. "It's just a feeling I have. I can't help but think that there's a clue I've overlooked."

     [There was the handkerchief, Harry. Remember?] Vala's voice triggered a memory for Harry, a glimpse of the monogrammed handkerchief that Lyr had used to wipe aloe from his hands after tending to Harry's burns. What were those letters again? _AVL_ ...

     "Hermione, what was Lyr's full name?"

     She gave it a moment's thought before answering. "Alexander Fyodor Lyr."

_The initials don't match,_  Harry thought to himself. _Aleksei is too clever to make such a stupid mistake. Why would he go to the trouble of having a monogrammed handkerchief with the wrong initials, unless those were **his** handkerchief and **his** initials?_ Harry abruptly stood up and walked over to Tonks, leaning down to whisper in her ear. She listened intently, nodding along, then got up and left the room.

     "What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. 

     "I asked Tonks to confirm something for me. She'll be back soon."

     "I don't think we've mentioned the most important thing we know about Aleksei," Severus cut in, "which is that this man is highly dangerous. I now believe he was the wizard who cursed me on Halloween, and Harry is certain that he was present at the Lennox house as well. Not only did he initiate the attack on the clinic, but he was able to subdue Julian -- not an easy task, I might add -- and he's fairly proficient at casting _coi'e'gurtha_ at a moment's notice. Not many wizards have the talent or the self-possession to attempt a complicated spell like that in the middle of an all-out battle."

     "He wouldn't be the first talented wizard to be recruited by Voldemort," Dumbledore said with a sigh, "though I wish these young people would think harder about what their choice will cost them in the long run."

     "He's not a Death Eater," Harry said.

     Several incredulous stares were directed his way.

     He crossed his arms over his chest, ready to defend his statement. "He's too arrogant and too aware of his own cleverness to submit to someone else. When he and Lucius talked, it was as if Aleksei was pulling the strings. Do you really think that Lucius, a high-ranking Death Eater, would let himself be pushed around by a new recruit? No, Aleksei is his own master, and though he might have joined in on that Death Eater raid on Halloween, he has his own agenda when it comes to the Mori. I wouldn't be surprised if he wants to get rid of Voldemort as much as we do -- it would make his own schemes that much easier to accomplish."

     A silence fell over the room as that disquieting notion sank in, broken only when Tonks returned to the room, a slip of parchment in her hand.

     "You were right, Harry," she said, looking down at the notes she'd taken on the parchment. "There's an Aleksei Valin Lyr working for the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He took a leave of absence around the same time that Professor Lyr showed up at Hogwarts. It has to be the same Aleksei."

     "And I'll wager he was named after a family member," Harry said. "We know Professor Lyr never had any children, but as for Marek ..."

     Hermione sat up a little straighter, her eyes wide in shock. "So ...  you think that Professor Lyr is ... his _uncle_?"

     "Or _was_ his uncle," Harry said, believing it just as likely that Aleksei had gotten rid of his uncle so there would be no one to dispute his new identity. Every new thing he learned about Aleksei seemed to confirm his instinct that this was the enemy they needed to focus on, not Voldemort; defeating Voldemort was still an important goal, but he had the strangest feeling that it would only lead to something worse -- perhaps to that hellish nightmare where he and Julian had been captured. He wanted to do whatever he could to prevent that nightmare from becoming reality. 

     "I want us to learn everything we can about Aleksei," he decided, and then he was handing out orders as if he'd been born to it. "Hermione, write to Viktor and see if he can find out anything about Aleksei's time at Durmstrang. Tonks, find out what you can about him at the Ministry, but be discreet. I want someone to look into his family background as well -- Headmaster, could you arrange that?"

     Dumbledore stared at Harry, dumbstruck, for a few moments before he cleared his throat and replied, "Yes, certainly."

     "Good, thank you," Harry said, continuing to make out a mental list of what needed to be done as he spoke. "We need volunteers to help Hermione go through all of Culpepper's research -- there might even be some personal papers that can give us insight into what he thought of his grandson."

     He paced back and forth a few times, a buzz developing in the back of his brain from a surge in the number of spirits vying for his attention. He stopped short and turned to Rauko, who had been watching Harry with pride and satisfaction.

     "I also need to know how much Aiya's capture will compromise us," he said. It hurt him to imply that his sister's fate was inevitable, but he wanted to prepare for the worst case scenario. "I'm especially worried about the safe-houses. If we don't relocate them and she uses one while on the run, she'll give away the location to whoever is tracking her." 

     "You can't really mean what you're saying," Sirius cut in with a frown. "Think about it, Harry. If you take away the safe-houses, Aiya won't have anywhere to go."

     "He _has_ thought about it," Rauko said softly. He held Harry's gaze, understanding all too well how hard it was to choose the greater good over the welfare of a loved one. "It is a leader's duty to ensure the safety of all his people, not just those he holds dear. Aiyana would understand."

     "Harry is not the leader of the Mori," Dumbledore pointed out coldly. "You should not place that responsibility on his shoulders."

     Severus snorted, ready to point out the hypocrisy in that statement, but Rauko beat him to it.

     "I am not using him as a pawn to win a war," Rauko snapped, his voice icy. "I am not allowing him to walk into danger after danger without a clear idea of what he's facing. What I am doing is giving him the opportunity to make rational choices that will ensure the survival of his people. It is imperative that he learns how to take charge of a situation instead of blindly following what someone else tells him to do. You say he is not the leader of the Mori, but that is exactly what he will be one day -- I have named Harry as my heir."

     Dumbledore's eyes blazed. "Your _heir_?" 

     Julian groaned at the terrible timing of Rauko's announcement. "Couldn't you have waited a little longer, at least until you'd told Harry first?"

     Severus gritted his teeth as he pressed his voice into Harry's mind. [This explains why Mori you've never met were falling all over themselves when you walked by today, bowing like you were a bloody prince.]

     Maybe he'd lost the capacity to be surprised, or maybe deep down he'd already suspected what Rauko was planning, but the announcement didn't faze Harry at all. In fact, it frustrated him that such a petty issue was taking precedence over their discussion of what needed to be done to keep everyone safe. Dumbledore and Rauko were bickering openly now, working their way towards an epic argument, but Harry wasn't going to let them derail his meeting.

     "Enough!" He slammed his hand down on an end table, sending a shockwave of energy through the room that rattled the windows and shook the bookshelves. Once again the center of attention, he forced himself to speak calmly and evenly. "The safe-houses will be relocated. The wards protecting Hogwarts should also be replaced, as Aiya knows how to get around them, and the Order should find itself a new building for headquarters as soon as possible. Until then, I want to add wards around Grimmauld Place as a precaution."

     Rauko and Dumbledore gave curt nods of agreement, the latter having the decency to look ashamed of his previous angry outburst. It was probably too much to ask that Rauko would feel his own share of shame, but Harry was happy enough that no one was arguing and he could move on to his last order of business.

     "I've decided --" he began, then he glanced back at Severus and started over, "-- _we've_ decided that after Christmas it's best if Severus and I go into hiding until the baby is born. We want to completely remove ourselves from the wizarding world for the next few months."

     Rauko opened his mouth to speak but Harry didn't even bother to wait for the question.

     "We're _not_ going to the Underground."

     "The loss of two of our strongest wizards would be a huge setback for the Order," Dumbledore said, appearing to choose his words carefully. "In light of the attack on the clinic, do you really think this is the best course of action for all involved?"

     "Yes, losing Severus for a few months will put the Order at a disadvantage," Harry conceded, heading Severus off before he could make an angry and ultimately unhelpful retort to Dumbledore's question, "but I'm useless to you right now. I'm forbidden to expose myself to sunlight, I still don't have full control over the power of my spells, and half the time I'm completely oblivious to what's going on around me. That's a recipe for disaster, not a description of one of your 'strongest wizards.' It's because of the attack on the clinic that we came to this decision. For better or worse, I'm the enemy's focus right now. If I disappear for a while, that might force them to slow down and rethink their strategy."

     Dumbledore nodded, but inevitably had to ask, "And the idea of keeping Severus with the Order while Harry goes into hiding alone is ..."

     "... out of the question," Severus snapped. 

     Harry had expected Dumbledore's resistance, but he was more worried about the tight-lipped redhead staring intently at him from across the room.

     "Ron --"

     "We're going with you." 

     "What?"

     "Hermione and I are going with you and Snape to ... wherever it is you're going. You'll need us -- Hermione for all the obvious reasons, and I can at least help you out with Dorian. And wouldn't it make sense to take Julian and Sirius as well? And a few Mori shadows wouldn't hurt, just for protection ..."

     "Wait, wait ... we don't want to be a burden on anyone," Harry protested.

     "It would be unthinkable for my heir to be without his own personal guardians," Rauko said, speaking more to Ron than to Harry as the two began throwing out ideas for who might be added to Harry's entourage. "Strength and skill would be critical ..."

     "... but no-one too stuffy," Ron said, probably thinking of Khiasa. "Maybe someone younger, more friendly ..."

     "... with a Darkshine temperament, yes, I can see why that would be a more comfortable choice."

     "And what about a midwife, for when the baby comes?"

     "Lisette should be recovered by then, but it wouldn't hurt to have a healer in the home ..."

     [This isn't what I intended,] Harry said to Severus as he leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa.

     [They do raise some good points. Julian is in danger, and I'd feel better having him with us than leaving him with Rauko. If nothing else, he can be my guinea pig while I research that binding spell. And the others -- Black, Weasley, Granger -- they all mean so much to you. Why not take them with us?]

     Harry raised a brow. [You don't mind Sirius coming with us?]

     Severus reached out to trace his fingertips over Harry's cheek. [The mere thought of being separated from you is painful for me, and for some reason Julian feels the same way about your godfather. I could never separate my brother from his mate, no matter how much I dislike Black.]

     [That sounds suspiciously like personal growth to me ...]

     [Let's keep that a secret, shall we?]

     [My silence will cost you.]

     [I'm sure we can work something out ...]

     "Harry, are you listening?" Ron said.

     Harry looked up to see that Ron and Rauko were now sitting shoulder to shoulder on the sofa as they discussed everything that would be needed when Harry and Severus went into hiding, while Hermione sat beside them taking notes, a bemused expression on her face.

     "Sorry, go on," he said, giving them as much of his attention as he could spare. He soon found out that the odd combination of Ron and Rauko did not, in fact, bring on the apocalypse, but rather produced some interesting suggestions for how they should proceed. 

     [When I pictured wizards and Mori uniting towards a common goal, this was not what I had in mind,] Severus said dryly.

     [No,] Harry said, taking Severus's hand in his own and lacing their fingers together, [but it's a start.]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **coi'e'gurtha** \-- literally translates as “to live in death”; the name the Mori have given to the binding spell ancient wizards would use to enslave them  
>  **ai'toror** \-- little brother  
>  **tarenamin** \-- my prince (This is the more intimate form of **taren en amin** (also "my prince") which is why Wen corrected Zara when she called Harry **tarenamin** because it implied that she and Harry were closer than they really are.)


	56. What Was Lost, What Was Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** This is the last of the already-completed chapters, so updates will be slower from here on out. Apologies in advance for the delay.

 

       The next few days were a flurry of activity as Harry's plans were put into action: Dumbledore had left to take care of the wards at Hogwarts and to oversee the investigation into Aleksei, while several Mori had been dispatched by Rauko to relocate the safe-houses. Severus had created new wards to protect Grimmauld Place, and Harry had worked together with Ron and Rauko to finalize the details of their upcoming move. They'd decided on the _who_ and the _when_ , but the _where_ was still unclear.

       The majority of the _who_ were gathered together in what had once been the Black family library, where they sat in a circle on the floor amidst tall stacks of papers and books. Harry had officially appointed Hermione to lead the sorting of the research, as she was obviously best-suited for it, and she'd dived right into the daunting task with gusto. Ron and Harry had joined her, of course, and she'd also recruited Zara, Wen and Satya, all of whom would be joining them once they left Grimmauld Place. Severus and Dorian were seated by Harry, though Dorian spent most of his time speaking Elvish to Harry's stomach.

       Six of the members of their group were absent: Chane, their healer, had left with the last of the wounded Mori to help them get settled safely in the Underground, and Aiko had gone with him as his shadow. Lisette, who would have been nearly as fascinated with Culpepper's research as Hermione, had yet to wake up, and Rauko (who would serve as the middle man connecting the group to their allies) spent most of his time at her side. As for Julian and Sirius, they had been keeping to themselves ever since the attack, and it was rare to see them outside of Sirius's room. Harry and Hermione had agreed that, though he would be the first to pitch in if they asked him to, Julian needed to rest and recover, so they'd left him in Sirius's capable hands and hoped for the best.

       They worked in silence, passing papers and books to each other when necessary, the quiet monotony broken only by Dorian's Elvish whispers and the occasional bout of laughter from Zara and Satya when they would come across a piece of Culpepper's research that struck them as odd. Wen would roll his eyes at the two of them, but Hermione's curiosity would get the better of her and all work would stop while Zara or Satya explained the joke.

       “That bit about Darkshines being more powerful on full moons is the sort of nonsense that fledglings brag about when they're too young to know better,” Zara said after Satya showed her a list of supposed Darkshine traits.

       “You talk as if you're so grown up, but your fledgling years aren't exactly far behind you,” Wen pointed out with a smirk, dodging Zara's hand when she reached over to smack his arm.

       Satya laughed, her silvery-blue eyes glowing bright against her dark skin. “Aiko and I believed the silliest things when we were fledglings. I blame the spirits – how they loved to goad us on! The mischievous ones would fill our heads with half-truths and rumors, then they would laugh at us as we made fools of ourselves trying to pass off their 'facts' as proof of how wise we were.”

       “The spirits enjoy an attentive audience,” Rauko said, appearing in the doorway, “and fledglings have more patience than their elders to listen to the spirits' stories.”

        He looked around the room, unaffected by the sight of so much research – no amount of research that Culpepper had collected could rival Rauko's own knowledge and memories. If there was one true authority on the Mori, it was their charismatic leader. “How are things progressing?”

        “We're sorting everything into subjects to make it easier to manage,” Hermione said, passing a handwritten journal to Harry, who was in charge of all the research on the magical properties of the Mori. She had written ' _spells and potions that use the Mori as ingredients_ ' on the cover of the journal, adding the word 'DANGEROUS' in bold capital letters underneath so Harry knew to put it in the stack of papers that required charms to lock away their secrets.

        “Harry has all the magical research,” Hermione said, counting off each person on her fingers as she explained what subject they were collecting, “Ron is in charge of the history, Wen has all the papers on culture and traditions, Zara has all the notes on you --”

        “I'm not so sure I like the idea of Zara guarding my secrets,” Rauko said, doing his best to look concerned, though the hint of a smile was on his lips.

        Zara chuckled and leaned her elbow on one of three tall stacks of papers and journals, all containing a mixture of myths and facts about Rauko. “What secrets? There's nothing in these stacks that I couldn't learn from the stories my great-granny told on Solstice Eve. When Hermione condenses this mess, I think all the research on you will be boiled down to ' _Never make Rauko angry_ ' with a side of ' _Kissing: you're doing it wrong_ '.”

        “I've had no complaints on my kissing,” Rauko defended himself, adding with a wicked grin, “from the survivors.”

        “How can you _brag_ about it?” Zara sounded like she was scolding him, but there was laughter in her eyes. “When I was younger, Wen told me so many horror stories about you that he had me convinced that all kissing ended in internal hemorrhaging and exploding organs.”

        “I don't see why I'm to blame for that 'Kiss of Death' nonsense. To call that kissing is misleading. Your lips don't even have to touch! You simply need to get a firm grip on the victim's jaw to prevent resistance, position your mouth within an inch or two of the opened airway, and expel your shadows down the victim's throat and into his body where they will move and expand at your command, leading to --”

        “Boom!” Zara said, mimicking an explosion with her hands.

        “And so ends the first chapter of the new book I've decided to write: Horrible Things That No One Wants To Hear About Ever,” Ron said.

        Hermione cleared her throat and resumed her explanation, starting from where she'd been interrupted. “-- Zara has all the notes on Rauko, I'm collecting all the medical and biology notes, and Satya is in charge of the papers on language and literature.”

        Rauko's gaze fell on the only person who hadn't been named so far. “And what about Severus?”

        “I'm supervising Granger's supervision,” Severus said, leaning back against a bookcase with his legs stretched out in front of him. Unlike the others, who passed papers directly to each other, Severus would take one look at a paper or a journal and either place it in a small box next to him or toss it onto Harry's unsorted pile, regardless of where it really should have gone.

        “His dedication inspires us all,” Harry said with a wry smile, adding a few pages on magical abilities to his own collection while handing Severus a paper referencing _coi'e'gurtha_ , the only subject Severus was interested in now that he'd fully immersed himself in the search for a cure. In fact, Severus had only agreed to help sort Culpepper's papers after Hermione had found a significant amount of research on the spell and its origins.

        “Hmmm.” Rauko studied Severus with a calculating smile, but he didn't press for more details, whether aloud or through mindspeak. Instead, he held out a hand to Dorian. “Aiko and Chane have returned, and I do believe they brought something back just for you. Let's go find them.”

        Dorian put his hand in Rauko's and the two of them walked out of the room, Dorian's excited chatter countered every now and then by an amused word or two from Rauko.

        Without the oldest and youngest Mori of their group to distract them, the team quickly fell back into silence, each focused on his or her own task. It was a cozy feeling, Harry decided, to be together with friends both old and new, all of them working towards a single goal. The easy camaraderie that had already developed among them would make the transition smoother when they all went into hiding together.

        He sorted through a stack of papers, giving some to Ron and some to Satya, and discovered a grey canvas-covered book beneath them. It was wide and thin with two thick black ribbons tied together to keep it closed.

 _Looks like some kind of sketchbook_ , Harry thought, and then he remembered all the notations in the binder of research Hermione had given him back at Hogwarts that mentioned sketches. He eagerly untied the ribbons and opened the book, only to be struck with confusion by what he saw.

        “It can't be,” he said under his breath, but with each page he turned his certainty grew. There were so many drawings but only one subject, and Harry knew he'd finally solved the nagging question of how Culpepper knew so much about the Mori.

        He nudged Severus and gave him the sketchbook. [Look at this.]

        Severus, tired of organizing someone else's research when he could be conducting his own, couldn't be bothered to feign excitement over Harry's find. [If this isn't the Mori version of the Kama Sutra, I'm not interested.]

        [Just _look_ at it.]

        Severus sighed and opened the book, expecting to be underwhelmed, but his eyes narrowed as he flipped through the pages, his body growing more tense with each sketch he viewed. By the time he reached the end, he had abandoned his former indifference for an expression of fierce concentration. He gave Harry a sharp look. [These are all of Julian. Why would Culpepper have drawings of Julian?]

        [Don't you see? Julian was Culpepper's source. This is why all of his research is so accurate – the bulk of his information came from an _actual Mori_.]

        Severus frowned. [I know Julian is a stickler for being open and honest, but even he has more sense than to spill Mori secrets to a wizard. This doesn't sound like something he'd do.]

        [No, the Julian we know today wouldn't take that risk, but what about when he was a teenager? The first night I met him, he told me that when he was my age he'd made friends with a pureblood wizard. What if that wizard was Culpepper?] Clues that he'd hadn't realized were clues began to fit together in Harry's head. [Julian said that Rauko had found out about his friend, but in the end he hadn't killed him. Later, on the night you were turned, I was talking to Rauko about Culpepper and he said, “Perhaps I should have killed him when I had the chance ...”]

        [Perhaps he _should_ have killed him.] Severus dropped the book into his box and covered it with a few stray papers. [We'd all be better off if his life's work didn't exist. Culpepper had the wisdom to know it would be dangerous to publish all this research, but he also should have known it could fall into the wrong hands.]

        [ _Could_? It already did,] Harry said, a chill running up his spine. The memories of Julian's reaction to seeing Rhys -- and Aleksei's reaction to seeing Julian -- reminded Harry that Culpepper had a deeper connection to their current troubles than mere research. [We don't know how much of his research he shared with his family, but we do know that at least one of his grandsons inherited his obsession with the Mori.]

        [There, it's official. Rauko's biggest mistake was letting Culpepper reproduce.] Severus felt nothing but contempt for either of Culpepper's grandsons, and remembering how both brothers had attacked someone he loved put Severus in a black mood, drawing not only the comforting embrace of the room's shadows but also the attention of the other three Mori in the room. He waved off their projections of concern as he stood up. “I have some work to do. Harry will keep track of the papers I require, so just give him anything you think will be of interest to me.”

        [Go easy on him,] Harry said, knowing that work was the last thing on Severus's mind. [Don't force him to talk about it if he doesn't want to.]

        Severus leaned down to press a soft kiss to Harry's lips. [Do you really think I'm that insensitive?]

        Harry reached up and pulled Severus back in for a second kiss. [Let's just say I have intimate knowledge of your interrogation techniques.]

        [I'll be … _nice_ ,] Severus promised, though the face he made indicated that it would take a lot of effort.

        Harry chuckled as he watched Severus pick up his box and leave the room.

 

 

* * * * * * * *

 

 

_Amin utue lle._

        Julian pressed the heel of his palm against his bandaged chest, concentrating on the pain so he could block out Aleksei’s voice. No matter how many barriers he built in his mind, those three words always managed to worm their way back into his thoughts, haunting him.

        _Amin utue lle._

        It was a phrase he’d heard often as a child while playing hide and seek with his brothers in the twisting tunnels and vast caverns of the Underground. Caelen, the eldest, had been especially good at tracking his younger siblings, and his triumphant shout of ‘I found you!’ would echo through the dark, warning those still hidden that it wouldn’t be long before he discovered them as well.

        Julian basked in the innocence of those memories as he stroked Sirius's dark hair. They were alone in the downstairs sitting-room, just as they had been alone together there during their first one-on-one conversation. Julian had reclaimed his spot in the window seat, only now he shared it with Sirius, who had stretched out for an afternoon nap with his head in Julian's lap. Everything he'd hoped for was now safe in his arms … but for how long? It was bittersweet to have Sirius finally accept him as a mate just when their future together became so precarious.

        They'd sequestered themselves in Sirius's bedroom since the night of the attack, mostly for Julian's benefit. He had slept for a long time after that first night, having been tested to his limits both mentally and physically during the attack, and Sirius had held him close the entire time, waking him from his nightmares if he cried out and soothing him back to sleep once the fear had passed. Their waking hours had been spent talking quietly to each other about their lives and their loved ones, swapping stories and jokes with an ease that belied their short courtship, and the deepening of their bond had done more to heal Julian than any of Selene's potions.

        But newfound intimacy aside, Julian found himself continuing to hold Sirius at arm's length in some ways – he couldn't bring himself to lower his barriers, and he was terrified of Sirius seeing him without his bandages on. He understood now why Aiya had hidden her scars beneath a glamour. To be forced to wear the evidence of your own violation for everyone to see was in itself another violation. Every knowing look, every pitying glance would be a reminder, and there would be no way to move past what had happened. It was necessary to forget, or to have the illusion of forgetting, because even now the spellwork carved into his skin pulsed with a strange magic that would expand and contract, sometimes tightening around him so painfully that he would have to catch his breath. It was as if the spell was constantly trying to complete itself. At times he could ignore it – Sirius's presence usually kept the worst of it at bay – but it was always there, always a part of him now, and it would remain that way as long as Aleksei continued to live.

        He had replayed the moments leading up to Aleksei's attack over and over in his mind for the past few days, trying to see where he had failed. He could picture everything clearly: Nenet's lifeless body, the startled eyes of her killer when Julian ambushed him, the snap of the wizard's neck, the sobs of Nenet's family as he made sure they were safely hidden in the void, and the fateful choice he had made to go back to the room for Nenet's body, only to be confronted by Aleksei.

        Julian's first instinct had been to escape, but Aleksei had lowered his wand and pleaded with him to wait. What had compelled him to stay? Yes, Aleksei looked almost identical to the old friend he'd lost, but that didn't change what he knew about the man. Aleksei was a threat to everyone and everything he held dear – so why had Julian hesitated?

_“I can’t believe it’s true,” Aleksei had whispered, reaching out a trembling hand as if to touch Julian and confirm that he was real, repeating again in Elvish, “Amin utue lle.”_

        In that moment, Aleksei had looked so innocent, so harmless, the intensity of his dark brown eyes softened by an expression of wonder. It had been enough to lower Julian’s guard.

 _Only a fledgling would make such a stupid mistake_ , Julian thought, and suddenly the spell flared to life, clawing into his skin with renewed vigor. He squeezed his eyes shut as that invisible chain tightened again around his chest, only to be calmed when Sirius snuggled against him, mumbling Julian's name in his sleep. He shoved aside the idea that he'd brought this on himself. He couldn't afford to think that way. Fear, regret, self-doubt – any emotion that left him feeling vulnerable seemed to give the spell strength.

 _It is trying to break your will_ , Vala's voice broke into Julian's barricaded mind _. You must be strong._

        Julian's breath caught on a sob. The Angel of Death himself was whispering in his ear. It felt like a confirmation of his worst fears. Vala, who rarely spoke to anyone, would not offer comfort on a mere whim. Julian gritted his teeth against the urge to cry. [I stand to lose everything and you're telling me to be strong? What good did your strength do for you?]

_You will have something that I didn't have._

        Julian wiped his hand across his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. [And what could that possibly be?]

_Hope._

        The sound of knocking startled Julian and his eyes flew open. Severus stood in the doorway carrying a box in his arms.

        “Do you think you could tear yourself away from watching Black drool on himself to let me examine you?”

        Julian chuckled, wiping again at his eyes before responding. “He isn't drooling, though it would be adorable if he was. Why do you need to examine me?”

        Severus scoffed at the word 'adorable' being used in connection with Sirius. “I need to examine you so I can find out how to get rid of that horrible tattoo Aleksei gave you.”

        “I prefer to think of it as graffiti,” Julian joked, but it fell flat without his usual lighthearted grin to back it up.

        “Either way, we need to get rid of it.”

        “And you think that's possible?”

        “For me? Of course.” There wasn't a hint of doubt in Severus's voice, and Julian was reminded again of his oldest brother – Caelen had never doubted that he could find his brothers, no matter how well hidden they were.

        “You're going to fit right in at the family reunions,” Julian said, gently lifting Sirius's head and shoulders so he could slide out from beneath him. Sirius made a sound of protest but didn't wake up, simply curling his body into a comfier position now that he no longer had Julian's lap for his pillow.

        “Which serves to remind me, we'll be having guests on the Solstice.” Severus shut the door to the sitting room so they could have a measure of privacy, then he placed his box on the end table by the sofa.

        Julian rubbed at the stiffness in his neck, only made worse by the rise of tension caused by Severus's news. “All of them? Mum and Dad as well?”

        “Yes, but only briefly,” Severus confirmed, steering Julian onto the sofa before pulling up a chair so he could sit opposite him.

        “Briefly,” Julian murmured, still not sure how he felt about seeing his family so soon after what happened. And there was Sirius to think of …

        “You've been shutting everyone out, so it fell to me to be the go-between,” Severus went on, though there was no hint of admonishment in his voice. He'd never had a sibling, let alone five, so being adopted so readily by the rest of Julian's family had secretly pleased him, something he would never admit out loud. “Taren and Vaughn already like the mutt, if it's any consolation. Take off your shirt.”

        Julian automatically complied, his disbelief muffled by the t-shirt as he pulled it over his head. “They do? Why?” He paused with the shirt halfway off his arms. “ _You_ weren't talking him up to them … were you?”

        Severus pinned him with a ' _do-you-even-know-me?_ ' look

        Julian laughed and tugged his hands free, balling up the shirt and tossing it aside. “Okay, then why?”

        “Dorian and his stories about Julian's 'puppy' were enough to charm them,” Severus said as he rummaged through the box he'd brought with him.

        “Remind me to buy that boy the best Christmas present ever.”

        Severus bit back on a sarcastic reply as he removed Julian’s bandages, revealing the fast-healing wounds on Julian's chest. The scars of the binding spell were a stark crimson against the paleness of Julian’s skin. Severus shuffled through the papers he’d brought with him, all describing the various runes and symbols integral to the binding spell. He found two that looked familiar and held them up, comparing the runes to the scars on Julian’s chest. The first rune matched exactly, but the second rune had a strange, curved deviation that didn’t quite match the one on the paper or any of the runes Culpepper described.

        “Do you remember where he marked you first?” Severus asked.

        Julian sighed and closed his eyes, his hand hovering over his chest as he tried to remember where the pain had started. He touched the mysterious rune and opened his eyes. “Here.”

        Severus conjured a quill and scribbled a few notes, adding a quick drawing of the modified rune for future study. Why had Aleksei deviated from the original spell? Severus wouldn’t know how the change affected the spell until he discovered the rune’s meaning, but any deviation from the original spell had an equal chance of making it weaker or stronger. Changes to a spell had to be tested before they could be considered an improvement, and Severus knew with absolute certainty that Aleksei hadn’t been testing his spell on other Mori. Julian was the guinea pig.

 _This could be good news_ , Severus thought to himself, careful to keep his findings from Julian. He didn’t want to get his brother’s hopes up just yet. He continued his examination in silence, cataloging which runes he recognized from Culpepper’s notes, though many of the symbols were unfinished, making it hard for Severus to know which rune was represented. When he was finished, he helped Julian re-wrap the bandages around his chest, though the wounds had healed so much in such a short time that Severus didn’t think it was necessary to dress them.

        “It’s easier to hide them with bandages than a glamour,” Julian said when Severus pointed this out.

        “As long as you keep your shirt on, no one will see anything anyway,” Severus argued as he put his papers away. He paused and turned to Julian. “Or is this about Black?”

        Julian shrugged back into his shirt without answering.

        Severus took a deep breath, ready to press the point, but Harry's advice on not pushing Julian made him hesitate. There were more important things to discuss with his brother, and he didn't want to waste time arguing over Sirius. Instead, he pulled the sketchbook out of the box and presented it to Julian.

        “Harry found this while going through Culpepper's research.”

        Julian knew what he held the instant Severus put the book in his hands, but he opened it anyway. He could only bear to look at a few pages before he closed the book and set it aside. “So my secret is out?”

        “Harry and I know, but we haven't told anyone else.”

        “You should tell Rauko that you know. He has worked very hard to keep my reckless behavior a well-guarded secret.” Julian spoke slowly, fighting to control the bitterness that threatened to spill out of his mouth. He'd spent so many years being ashamed of his friendship with Nathaniel, and then angry at Rauko for making him feel ashamed, and now it turned out that Rauko had been right all along, that Julian had been mistaken in befriending a wizard, and he'd put himself and his entire race in danger. The world was full of terrible things, but Rauko being right was one of the worst.

        “The other Mori don't know?” Severus couldn't imagine how Rauko managed to keep Julian's friendship with Culpepper a secret when Julian had such an open mind.

        “Rauko has more tricks up his sleeve than you might think. You could dig around in my brain for weeks and never find my memories of Nathaniel Culpepper. The spirits know, but they're better at keeping secrets than anyone.” Julian sighed, his mouth curving into a hollow smile. “I was young, and I had committed what amounted to a serious crime in those days. Rauko didn't want me to be ostracized for what he called a 'youthful indiscretion.'”

        “He should have killed Culpepper.”

        “Severus – ”

        “No, Julian. He should have killed him, or at the very least tampered with his brain like he did with yours.”

        “Nathaniel wasn't our enemy,” Julian insisted, driven to defend his friend even after all those years. “He was a teenage bookworm who couldn't be bothered to practice curses or charms. He was always losing his wand, but you could bet your life that he had a spare quill tucked into his robes. He liked to draw and explore and press flowers – _flowers_ , Severus. Does that sound threatening to you? You'll have to ask Rauko why he didn't kill him, but I think he saw Nathaniel through my eyes: as an ally, not an enemy. I never knew he was writing down all the things I told him about the Mori – if I had, I would have been more careful in what I said – but he never used that information against us.”

        “No, he left that up to his grandson,” Severus growled.

        Julian's shoulders sagged. He didn't have a rebuttal. How someone like Aleksei could share the same bloodline as his old friend remained a painful mystery to him.

 _So much for being nice_. Severus watched Julian with growing concern, angry at himself for causing that dejected frown Julian wore, and angry at the entire Culpepper family tree for having the audacity to exist. He would do his best to rectify that situation in the future ...

        “I can't say that nothing positive has come of your friendship with Culpepper,” he admitted, pressing on when Julian perked up, the frown slipping away. “I would have a harder time finding a counterspell to coi'e'gurtha if I didn't have Culpepper's notes and drawings to help me. Once I take away their strongest weapon against us, we'll be able to fight them more effectively.”

        Julian didn't share Severus's certainty that he could find a way to break the binding spell, but he appreciated his brother's attempt to cheer him. “You were extremely effective against Aleksei at the clinic.”

        “He won't forget my curse anytime soon,” Severus said darkly, recalling how his shout of S _ectumsempra_ had caught Aleksei by surprise, slashing his face, arms and chest so severely that he'd stumbled to the floor in shock. Severus had been about to unleash the curse again when Aleksei had pulled himself together and made his escape through Disapparition. Had he been thinking clearly, Severus would have killed Aleksei outright and saved them all from their present troubles, but his thoughts had been full of vengeance, both for Julian and for Harry, and in his anger he'd chosen a spell that would cause Aleksei the most pain.

        “The blow to his pride must have stung the most. I don't think he's accustomed to defeat.”

        “Neither are you. How did he manage to get the upper hand?”

        “I don't know. Whatever evil drives Aleksei, there's still a part of him that reminds me of Nathaniel. That's the only excuse I can come up with for why I didn't jump into the void at the sight of him. And he never acted as if he wanted to hurt me. In fact, just before he attacked me, he did his best to persuade me to go with him willingly. He asked again and again, but when he realized I would never accept, he said _, 'I won't make the same mistake my grandfather made_.'”

        Severus wasn't sure what to make of such a statement. Had Culpepper harbored the same desire to bind Julian to him, but was unable to go through with it? Or was Aleksei simply referring to the fact that Julian had abandoned Culpepper, and Culpepper had done nothing to prevent it?

        “And that's when he used the binding spell?”

        Julian nodded. “It happened so quickly that I didn't have time to react.”

 _That's strange_ , Severus thought. He remembered Aiya telling him that Lucius had used light to weaken her so he could cast the spell, but Aleksei hadn't been able to conjure light during the attack on the clinic due to Lisette's interference. Julian was so much older than Aiya had been, and he was strong and fast; it would take a lot to weaken him to the point that he couldn't fight off a single wizard, even if taken by surprise. How had Aleksei managed to blindside him with that spell? If fledglings were taught how to take their own lives in the face of _coi'e'gurtha_ , then surely there should have been time for Julian to react. He'd come to Julian expecting answers, but all he seemed to find were more questions.

        “He spoke to me as if he'd spent his whole life looking for me,” Julian said with a shudder, his eyes glinting gold as the haunting refrain of ' _amin utue lle'_ drifted through his mind. The spell tightened its grip.

        Severus placed a comforting hand on Julian's shoulder. “He won't find you where we're going. I promise.”

        Julian relaxed under Severus's touch, bouncing back from the gloom of his thoughts with a smile, though the light in his eyes was still subdued. “I'm the big brother here. I should be protecting you, not the other way around.”

        “I'd rather have your advice than your protection,” Severus changed the subject, intent on distracting Julian from all the pain and guilt that their conversation had dredged up.

        Julian leaned forward with an incredulous laugh. “Me? Give _you_ advice? Really?”

        Severus frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

        “Sorry, sorry,” Julian said, adopting a more serious tone. He gestured for Severus to go on. “I'm all ears.”

        “With nothing between them,” Severus said, unable to resist another brotherly insult, but then he took a seat on the sofa next to Julian so he could explain his problem. He glanced at Sirius to make sure he was still sleeping – the snoring should have tipped him off – then forged ahead.

        “It's about Harry ...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> **Amin utue lle** – I found you  
>  **Ai'toror** – little brother


	57. Solstice Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I tried to proofread this but it all looks like nonsense to me, so please let me know if there are any glaring errors. A thousand apologies for how long it has taken me to update this story. I will try to step up my game for chapter 58. I'm sorry I wasn't able to reply to all the comments that had stacked up over the year, but I promise to reply to all comments from now on.

 

 

 

            Harry's first Winter Solstice as a Mori felt more like Christmas.

            Unexpected gifts had started to arrive early that morning, politely pushed out of shadows by unseen well-wishers or smuggled in second-hand through the other Mori in the house. Julian bore the brunt of the influx of presents, forced to play Santa Claus as he brought armfuls of brightly wrapped packages to Harry and Severus, first to their bedroom and then by late afternoon to the sitting room where they'd hoped to find refuge from the flood of Solstice generosity.

            "I blame Rauko for this," Severus said, choosing to bury his nose in a book rather than deal with the growing pile of presents that surrounded him.

            "Blame yourself." Julian dropped the latest arrivals next to the coffee table where Dorian was busy putting together a jigsaw puzzle. He sank to the floor with a tired sigh and playfully leaned against Severus's legs in a mock faint. "They wouldn't be sending you so much if you hadn't knocked Harry up. Most of this is for the baby."

            "Would everyone be this generous if Harry wasn't Rauko's heir?"

            Julian leaned his head back to look at his brother. "For a newly mated couple, only recently turned themselves, with a child on the way who have no access to money of their own and are soon to go into hiding? Yes, they'd be just as generous, especially the Evernights and the Shadowclaws. We take care of our own. Under happier circumstances, most of them wouldn't bother with gifts. Only close friends and family would send presents. Everyone else would wish you both a Happy Solstice and that would be that."

            "We do make a pitiful pair at the moment," Harry said as he ran his hand over the soft blanket he'd just unwrapped. It was beautiful, though not as precious to him as the blanket Aiya had given him. He could just imagine her excitement if she were with him now, helping him tear open presents and cooing over tiny socks and shoes. Her absence had long been a constant ache in his heart, but he felt the pain more keenly today. Would she be safely back home before the baby was born? How long would Harry have this hole in his happiness?

            "We should write thank you notes," he said with a forced smile. "How do you say 'Thank you for the beautiful blanket' in Elvish?"

            Julian sat up quickly, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he turned to face Harry. "That's easy. _Lle naa telmevanima_."

            Dorian looked up from his puzzle with a laugh. "No, Jules! What are you saying?"

            "Is that wrong?" Julian asked, unable to hide his smile. He pretended to give it some more thought, scratching his head before snapping his fingers in triumph. "I've got it! _Telmeamin nowa lle naa vanima_."

            Dorian collapsed into another fit of laughter. "No, silly, that's not it either."

            "Maybe I'll just write the notes in English," Harry said with a wry smile. He'd been feeling more and more self-conscious about his ignorance of the Elvish language. Severus had been learning the language on his own ever since he was turned, but Harry had so many things on his mind at once that tackling a second language hadn't seemed possible. At this rate his unborn son would be speaking fluent Elvish long before Harry ever did. Maybe it was time to take a few lessons ... 

            "Just say, ' _Diolla lle ten' i'telmevanima_ ," Severus said, his head still buried in his book.

            "Show off," Julian said with a sniff, though the sparkle never left his eyes. "I suppose that's what you could say if you want to be _proper_."

            "That's what you say if you want to be _understood_ ," Severus replied. "Proper has nothing to do with it."

            "Proper has never had anything to do with me, either," Julian said with a dramatic sigh, his performance earning him a snort of amusement from his brother.

            "Well, proper doesn't know what it's missing," Sirius said from the doorway, his lit wand illuminating his face.

            Julian popped up from his position on the floor, all his feigned melancholy falling away to reveal a very sincere anxiety. "Why are you here? I thought you'd gone with Hermione and Ron to the safe house where her parents are staying."

            Sirius blinked in surprise, but he didn't look too put out by Julian's lack of welcome. He rubbed his hand over his neck out of habit, shoulders twitching slightly when his fingers brushed over his mating mark. "I went, and now I'm back."

            "But I told you to -"

            "- hide from your family?" Sirius cut in with a tight smile.

            "If only one of us can get out of this situation, I wanted it to be you," Julian insisted, but then his need to touch Sirius overpowered his fear of the looming family reunion and he pulled his mate into his arms, burrowing his face against Sirius's neck and breathing deeply. "Gods, you smell good."

            "Not in front of the child, please," Severus said, though Harry had to wonder how he saw anything of what was going on with his attention still firmly focused on his book. Never in his life had he ever imagined that it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object, but he'd since reconciled himself to that twinge of envy he felt whenever Severus picked up a book.

            Sirius took Severus's admonition to heart and quickly separated himself from Julian. He fended off the hands that tried to tug him back into an embrace, winning a reprieve with a casual remark, "I stopped by our room first to change but I couldn't even get in the door with all those presents in the way. Is it someone's birthday?"

            "Rauko's, actually, but those aren't for him." Julian sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his jumper. "I'll go take care of it."

            "Don't bring them in here," Severus warned him. "Throw them in one of the empty rooms."

            "It might just be easier to leave them there and sleep somewhere else," Sirius said.

            Julian's shoulders sagged in weary resignation, but he wasn't so despondent that he couldn't steal a light kiss from Sirius before leaving the room.

            Sirius touched his lips as he stared at the empty doorway. "No tongue? He must be _extremely_ nervous ..."

            Harry set aside the baby blanket and leaned back against the plush cushions of the sofa. "And you're not?"

            "I'm terrified," Sirius admitted with a shaky laugh, "but I don't like to hide."

            "No, you just run straight into trouble without a second thought," Severus said, his own words giving him pause as he glanced at Harry over the top of his book, "not unlike someone else I know."

            Harry couldn't argue against the comparison - it just hadn't been a school year until he'd jumped recklessly into a dangerous situation - so he accepted the comment with a sheepish smile and tugged at the jumper that kept pulling tight over his rounded belly. He was in no condition to run anywhere these days.

            “I think both of you are worrying too much," he said to Sirius, but it didn't look like his godfather could be convinced. Lisette would know what to say to diffuse the tension, but she had yet to wake up. Harry missed her calming influence. With no Lisette to help him soothe Sirius's fears, Harry contemplated which of the other two people in the room he could pick to replace her: the four-year-old currently toiling over a 30-piece jigsaw puzzle, or his mate, the adult with years of experience dealing with stressful situations. Was there really a choice to make here?

            "So, Dorian, what would you say to Sirius if you wanted to help him feel brave?”

            “That's easy!” Dorian walked over to Sirius and took his hand, giving it a reassuring pat as he announced in loud, cheery Elvish, “ _I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'ithil!_ ” punctuating the phrase with a toothy grin.

            “Huh?”

            Severus turned another page of his book. "I'm no expert, but I think he said something about his enemies' bones glowing under the moon."

            There was a clatter of footsteps from the hall just before Julian burst back into the room, a fierce light in his golden eyes. “Where's the fight?”

            “False alarm,” Severus said without looking up.

            “Dorian was telling us what he'd say to help Sirius feel brave," Harry explained.

            “That's a war cry, not a pep talk,” Julian said, caught between a groan and a laugh. He settled on the latter, chuckling softly as he swung Dorian up into his arms. "Who taught you that? Your mum?"

            "No, Auntie did," Dorian said.

            "Which auntie?" Julian asked with a frown, but then he cringed as he tentatively answered his own question, "Auntie Ravenne?"

            Dorian nodded. "She said it's what you say when you're scared to do something. Isn't that what brave means? To do something even when you're scared?"

            “Yes, but Auntie Ravenne should have taught you a less ... _homicidal_ saying."

            Now it was Dorian's turn to frown. "What's homicidal?"

            "On that note, I'm going upstairs to talk to my own bloodthirsty relative," Harry said, leaving a flustered Julian to do the explaining.

            Severus ignored his brother's pleading eyes as he finally put down his book to speak to Harry. "A _short_ talk, I hope."

            Harry chuckled. For Severus, Rauko had come to represent a second Dumbledore in their lives - someone who had big plans for them, whether they liked it or not - so he kept a close eye on any interactions between Harry and his adopted father. "I'll be as brief as possible. Rauko's been quiet all day, so maybe he's not in mood to discuss war strategies anyway."

            "I told you, it's his birthday," Julian said, outright ignoring Dorian's tug on his sleeve as the young morion sought to get his questions answered. "He always takes it easy on the Winter Solstice. He and Lisette usually disappear early from any celebrations they attend. I always figured they were going off to have some ... _private fun_."

            "Not listening," Harry said, reacting as any child would to the idea of his parents having sex, especially when one of his parents was currently comatose. He gave Severus a kiss and eased his way through the maze of presents to the door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at his mate. [Hurry up and finish that damn book of yours. I want some _private fun_ of my own tonight.]

            Severus's body stiffened and the look he shot Harry was dangerously heated, but he managed to keep a restrained smile on his face. [Book? What book?]

            [Perfect response,] Harry said with a sultry smile of his own, and then he was out the door before his instincts took control and he taunted Severus into an afternoon quickie. His stamina didn't quite match up with his libido these days, so he needed to save his strength.

            Grimmauld Place had become a haven for shadows. Where once the empty rooms and hallways had given off a feeling of abandonment and disuse, now every dark corner of the house came alive, shadows crawling over floorboards or sliding along the walls until every room seemed to breathe darkness. Even Sirius had adapted, relying on his wand to light his way when moving from room to room, so not even candlelight pierced the black veil that had fallen over the house. Things would change once more wizards were back within its walls, but for now Grimmauld Place served as a dark sanctuary for the Mori staying there and the perfect environment for Harry during his pregnancy.

            _I wish we didn't have to leave._ Harry's sole purpose in going to see Rauko now revolved around their eventual removal from Grimmauld Place. The original deadline he'd set with Severus was just after Christmas, but they still hadn't found a suitable safehouse. They needed to find a place where they could be hidden from both humans and wizards, and Harry insisted on a place out in the countryside where they could have some peace and isolation. The perfect hideaway had yet to be found, and Harry was getting anxious. He needed to prod Rauko into looking harder since Harry himself was confined to Grimmauld Place. Strangely, it was a confinement that didn't grate on his nerves as he'd thought it would. He liked to think it was a sign that he was growing out of his reckless ways and becoming a mature adult.

            After resting a few moments half way up the stairs, then again at the top, he slowly ambled down the hallway with a surge of frustration at his worn-out body. Today's fatigue could be felt deep in his bones, worse than what he usually endured, and he wondered if he'd have the strength to even _kiss_ Severus tonight. Of course, Severus probably wouldn't mind doing all the work ...

            He paused just outside the door of Rauko's and Lisette's room. Lisette was still unconscious, wasn't she? There wasn't a chance he'd be interrupting their ... _private time_ ... was there?

            _Open the door and see_ , Vala dared him with a wicked laugh. 

            Harry's cheeks reddened. No doubt Vala knew exactly what was happening on the other side of that door. [You're no help at all.]

            _I just love seeing you blush._

            [If I didn't know better, I'd say you were related to Severus.]

            Vala fell silent, and Harry wondered if the spirit had taken his comment as an insult. He certainly hadn't meant it that way.

            He shrugged off the thought and knocked on the door, surprised when it opened with a soft click under the rap of his knuckles. 

            He peered around the edge of the door, reluctant to just walk in unannounced. "Rauko? Are you there?"

            The sight that greeted him was that of a slumbering Rauko, laid out on his back with one arm dangling off the side of the bed, the other arm protectively holding Lisette's petite body against him as she curled into his side, her head resting on his chest. They both looked exceptionally peaceful and content. Harry started to close the door again when suddenly Lisette's dark lashes fluttered, revealing the bright blue of her eyes, and Harry froze in shock. He watched in disbelief as Lisette extracted herself from Rauko's embrace and sat up on the bed, an indulgent smile curving her lips when Rauko frowned in his sleep, his arm swinging out in search of her. She leaned over him and whispered something in his ear, transforming his frown into a contented grin as he settled back into a deep slumber.

            Harry finally found his voice. “Lisette?”

            She looked up at him with a brilliant smile, placing a finger against her lips to hush him before beckoning him into the room. He quietly walked over to where she sat, pausing to stand awkwardly beside the bed before instinct took hold and he was pulling her into a fierce hug, so relieved to see her awake and aware after her long recovery that he couldn't hold back his tears.

            [Oh, my sweet boy,] she whispered in his mind, wrapping her arms around him as he cried softly. [I'm sorry I worried you.]

            [It was my fault –]

            [No, that's not true.] Lisette pulled back, wiping the tears from Harry's cheeks with her thumbs, her tone firm but her eyes gentle. [You're not allowed to think that way.]

            [But –]

            [ _Not allowed._ ]

            Harry forced a weak smile and nodded.

            [Come here and keep me company for a while.] Careful not to jostle Rauko, she made room for Harry on the bed. He climbed up beside her and Lisette put her arms around him again, cuddling him as if he were seven instead of seventeen, a sight that might have amused any passers-by given the disparity in their heights. He sighed and rested his head on her shoulder, reminded of his sister by the effortless way Lisette could calm him. The comparison brought with it fresh pangs of sadness and guilt over his sister's current situation, but Lisette squeezed him tight. [I know what you're thinking, but your sister will survive this. She's stronger than she looks, so never give up on her. One day I'll have both of my children in my arms again, but until then, I'm going to give you your sister's share of my hugs and kisses. Fair warning.]

            Harry's sob turned to a laugh and he hugged her back. [I missed you so much. Was it lonely for you while you were asleep?]

            [Both Rauko and Vala visited me in my dreams, so I haven't been too lonely,] she said, stroking his hair. [In fact, it was Vala who woke me. He kept bullying me, saying things like, “Are you going to let Rauko be alone on his birthday?” and “How can you bear to miss our anniversary?”]

            Harry turned his head to look up at her. [“Our” anniversary? You and Vala have an anniversary?]

            Lisette's hand froze and a blush stole over her cheeks as she realized what she'd said. She bit her lip, glancing away for a few seconds before looking back at Harry with an expression of innocence so masterfully executed that it must have been a trick she'd learned from Rauko. [Did I say “our” just then?]

            Harry started to laugh, quickly muffling the sound by burying his face against her shoulder.

            [What? Not convincing?]

            [Not even a little,] Harry said, raising his head to grin at her.

            “Vala, may I tell him?” she whispered, keeping Harry in the conversation while still being mindful of the slumbering morion lying next to them.

            _If you must_ , came the gruff reply, though Harry could detect an underlying sweetness in Vala's voice, as if he took more pleasure in indulging Lisette's whims than he would ever willingly admit.

            [Remember when I said that Vala and Rauko have such a close bond that words are unnecessary between them?]

            Harry nodded, recalling that conversation when he'd first learned Vala's name. [You said their bond is like the one I have with Severus.]

            [I meant that literally. Rauko and Vala are _maranwe_.]

            _Maranwe_! For the second time, Harry was speechless in shock.

            Lisette took one look at his face and smiled awkwardly, persisting in her explanation though she seemed unsure of how to fully explain the relationship. [They have been mates for centuries, but Vala has been a spirit for the majority of those years.]

            "They're mates?" Harry forgot to mindspeak in his confusion, though he quickly lowered his voice when Rauko stirred in his sleep. "How can they be mates ... when you and Rauko are mates?"

            He wasn't the expert on his own people, not by a long shot, but even he knew that mates were mates in both life and death. That bond never broke. What Lisette was telling him felt intrinsically wrong. If he died, would Severus find another mate? If they were only human, only married and not bondmates, it would be natural for the survivor to marry again after being widowed, but as a Mori he couldn't even fathom it. Would he be forced to watch from the spirit realm as his mate fell in love with another Mori and moved on without him?

            Lisette pulled him close again, sensing his unspoken fears and rushing to soothe him. [No, Harry, that's not how it is. Rauko is my mate ... and Vala is my mate. And Rauko and Vala are mates. There are three of us in this relationship. I'm the latecomer,] and here she let a bittersweet smile curve her lips, [but I have long believed that it was just as much my fate to be with my mates as it was fated for them to be with each other. Not _maranwe_ ... but a very close second.]

            _She is our light. I have always known she would be ours._ Vala spoke with such love and tenderness that Harry's heart was immediately put at ease. Those were not the words and tone of a morion who had been cast-off after death.

            [Rauko wasn't as easily convinced,] Lisette said with a grin. [Though, to be fair, neither was I.]

            _Rauko felt it as deeply as I did,_ Vala insisted. _He was just too stubborn to admit it._

            There was a fascinating story here, Harry realized, and he wanted nothing more than to drag the entire saga out of Lisette and Vala to satisfy his burning curiosity. How had it all come about? So many questions were on the tip of his tongue, but surprisingly he could only ask Lisette, [Are you really happy?]

            He wasn't even sure what he meant, because obviously Lisette loved her mates. Perhaps it all came down to Rauko and Vala being _maranwe._ It must hurt, even just a little, for Lisette to know she could never be a part of that special bond.

            _You underestimate her,_ Vala scolded him, but Lisette shook her head and smiled at Harry.

            [I am perfectly happy,] she assured him. [I have two mates I love and who love me back. Their bond as _maranwe_ is something that I can't share in, but I don't begrudge it. I've never felt as if my relationship with them is _less_ … only _different_.]

            _Our Lisette saved us. Rauko and I are maranwe, yes, but there was a long stretch of time where even our bond couldn't heal the wounds between us. Rauko chose rage, and I chose silence. It was a dark time ..._

            Lisette winced as if the pain in Vala's voice had seared her skin. [I think there's this false impression among the Mori that being _maranwe_ makes a couple immune to all the trials and troubles that normal couples face. It's simply not true. The bond is deeper, yes, but that only intensifies the pain when things go wrong. In this case, _spectacularly_ wrong.]

            [What happened?]

            [Well, that's a long story ...]

            _I died,_ Vala cut in. _There, I made a long story short._

            Lisette pursed her lips in a disapproving frown, clearly unhappy with Vala's interruption, but she honoured his decision to steer the conversation away from the circumstances of his death. Instead, she hugged Harry closer and gave him a comforting smile. [So now you know the secret that very few people know. Even your sister doesn't know about this.]

            Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. [Why not?]

            _Mine is a name that is best forgotten,_ Vala answered before Lisette could reply. _Those that do know of me know me as the Angel of Death, shunning me or fearing me. What good would it do Aiyana to know the truth? I'm content to simply be a helpful voice whispering to her from time to time, not that she ever listens to my advice._

            [Whether she knows it or not, she is your daughter too, and you've loved and protected her just as much as Rauko and I have,] Lisette said, her voice strained but firm, but then she kissed Harry's forehead and gently pushed him away. [Go on downstairs, Harry. I'm sure you intended to talk with Rauko when you came up here, but he will be sleeping until sundown. I believe some guests have arrived while we were talking. Would you please be a dear and welcome them in our place?]

            Harry nodded and eased himself down off the bed. [Is Julian's family here already?]

            _Ravenne's second youngest son, his mate and their two children._ Vala had quickly recovered his usual calm, dry tone, free of whatever anguish had been colouring his voice earlier. _You'll like them, Harry._

[I'll take good care of them,] he promised Lisette.

            [Thank you, Harry,] Lisette said, blowing him one last kiss before she resumed her vigil curled up against Rauko's side, his arm automatically coming around her again and holding her close.

            Harry watched them with a new appreciation for their relationship, though he wished he didn't still have so many questions about how they met.

            _Shall I promise to tell you one day?_ Vala asked him as Harry left the room and quietly closed the door behind him.

            [Why bother when 'one day' probably means 'one thousand years from now'?]

            _You know me well._

            Harry didn't think that was true at all given recent revelations, but he smiled anyway. [I just imagined how Severus would act in the same situation. You two really do resemble each other.]

            _I'm flattered that you think so_ , came Vala's soft reply, and then he was gone from Harry's mind.

            Harry resisted the urge to call Vala back. Too often he would use Vala as a security blanket whenever he and Severus were physically apart, and he needed to learn how to tolerate his mate's absence without relying on anyone else. Even now, when he and Severus were simply in different rooms of the same house, Harry couldn't ignore how anxious it made him feel not to have Severus close enough to touch. He didn't know whether to blame himself or his pregnancy, but either way it was imperative that he found his way back to self-sufficiency.

            [Missing me already?] Severus's voice provided a much needed balm to Harry's nerves.

            [If I'm not near you, I'm missing you,] Harry readily admitted, and Severus's dark, throaty laugh tumbled across his senses.

            [Come to our room so I can put you out of your misery.]

            The seductive pull of Severus's suggestion had Harry gravitating towards the closed door of their bedroom, but his promise to Lisette kept him from opening the door and walking inside. [I can't. There are guests downstairs.]     

            [There are guests upstairs too, but Dorian is keeping them occupied. The downstairs guests can wait ...]

            Harry leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the door. His body ached to give in and surrender to a few stolen moments with his mate, but a sudden wave of exhaustion reminded him that once he found himself in Severus's arms he would also find himself out of commission for the rest of the night.

            [If I walk into this room, I won't be walking out of it until tomorrow,] he said, pushing away from the door with a groan. [I'm going to check on Dorian then go downstairs. Don't come out of this room before I'm downstairs or I'll forget about my promise to Lisette and ...]

            [Lisette is awake?]

            Harry sighed in relief, grateful that he was able to give Severus something else to focus on.

            [Awake and smiling and as wonderful as ever,] he said. [Rauko is asleep, so I wasn't able to talk to him at all, but Lisette and I had a nice chat.]

            [Maybe we should ask her about possible safehouses,] Severus said, his mind already devoted to this new idea, his seduction of Harry shoved to the backburner.

            [Yes, definitely, you should do that,] Harry said as he walked as fast as he could away from their bedroom.

            [I'll see you downstairs soon, Potter,] Severus said, his words serving as much as a warning as they were a comfort, and then he was gone from Harry's mind in the same, abrupt manner as Vala had left.

            "I swear, two peas in a pod," Harry muttered to himself. He walked down the hall to Dorian's room and peeked inside, curious to see these 'guests' that Severus had mentioned.

            Dorian sat on a rug sandwiched between two Mori children of what appeared to be Asian descent, a brown-haired morwen on his right and a black-haired morion on his left. The morwen looked old enough to be starting her first year at Hogwarts had such a thing been possible, her golden eyes bright with intelligence and a keen interest in the story Dorian was telling, while the boy looked three or four years younger than her, his eyes a constantly changing hazel, a dreamy expression on his face as he half-listened to the story, easily distracted by a toy or a book or ...

            The boy suddenly looked up and stared straight at Harry, his almond-shaped eyes more green than brown as he cocked his head to one side and studied the stranger in the doorway.

            _A raven,_ Harry thought, and he offered the boy a smile that was shyly returned. Harry didn't know how he knew it, but this morion shared the same familiar as Harry and Rauko. He put a finger to his lips and gestured for the morion to go back to listening to Dorian, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him.

            If Dorian's guests were children, Harry decided it was safe to assume that he would be entertaining the parents downstairs. He hurried as fast as his swollen feet would go on his way to the room where the gathering would take place. Sirius had asked that it be held in his favourite drawing room, the one he and Julian often took over as their sanctuary when they deigned to leave their bedroom, and the same room in which he and Harry had spent a lot of their time together back when it had been only the two of them in their little makeshift family. Their family had grown so much that Harry couldn't believe it had once been just him and his godfather in this large house, and then just Sirius alone once Harry went back to Hogwarts.

            _I'll never let him be alone like that again,_ Harry thought with renewed determination. He would fight even the smallest resistance from any Mori who dared to believe Sirius wasn't worthy of being Julian's mate, and he would make it his personal mission to ensure that his godfather became a Mori himself, as much for Harry's happiness and peace of mind as it would be for Julian's.

            It was in this resolute frame of mind that he entered the drawing room, his brows kint and his eyes blazing, hardly the picture of gregarious welcome that Lisette might have wished him to be. He saw only one guest in the room; a black-haired morion with tan skin and steely gray eyes, rakishly handsome, rose from the sofa as soon as Harry walked in, a very Julian-like grin on his lips. He wore jeans and black jumper that molded to his taut, muscled body, casual clothing that did little to dampen that daredevil aura he was giving off. It wasn't an overwhelming aura, like one would feel from Rauko, but it hinted strongly at excitement and cheap thrills.

            " _Taren en amin,_ " he said with a formality that didn't suit his roguish expression. "I thought Julian would be here to make introductions, but I am honoured that you chose to personally welcome us to your home."

            Harry jerked to a halt. How should he respond? Should he echo the polite greeting with one of his own? Should he be imperious and icy, as Severus might be in the same situation? Should he smile gently like Lisette or joke around like Julian? He needed to find someone else to emulate in this situation, because if he responded in the way he wanted to respond, purely as Harry, he would ignore the greeting and just ask the morion point-blank if he approved of Sirius.

            He chose the gentle smile since it was Lisette who had sent him here. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place. Lisette wanted to welcome you, but she and Rauko are ..."

            "I can guess," the morion interrupted with a waggle of his brows. 

            Harry managed a weak laugh. "It's not quite like that, but they are unavailable at the moment."

            "As much as I enjoy the company of the lovely Lisette, it gives me a special thrill to be greeted by my beautiful brother-in-law." The morion held out his hand to Harry, beckoning him closer. "Let's get closer acquainted, shall we?"

            Harry didn't cross over to his side, preferring to linger only a few steps inside the room. "You're one of Severus's new brothers? Which one?"

            "The handsome one," was the immediate reply, and Harry had to chuckle at the matter-of-fact way it was said. "Maybe not the smartest or the strongest, but definitely the best looking. Don't you agree?"

            "I'll tell you after I've met the others," Harry said, and the morion laughed at how expertly Harry dodged the question, "but I'll warn you now that I'm heavily biased in Severus's favour."

            "Your loyalty is noted."

            "Do you have a name, or does everyone just refer to you as 'the handsome one'?"

            "Not as often as I'd like," he said with an aggrieved sigh, but the cocky grin was never far from his lips. "I'm Vaughn."

            "Hello, Vaughn. I'm Harry."

            "Oh, we all know who you are," Vaughn said, "and we all agree that Severus is one lucky bastard for snatching you up before any of us could even catch a glimpse of you. He should have had to fight a lot harder to have such a desirable mate in his bed."

            Harry blushed at Vaughn's flirtatious tone and blatant appraisal of Harry's face and body. Yes, this was definitely Julian's brother.       

            “Seducing your brother's mate in his own house is bad form, Vaughn,” said another voice, and suddenly Harry could see a dark-haired morion with distinctly Asian features sitting in the window seat, most of his body wrapped in shadows save for where the moonlight filtered in through the curtains and spilled across his face, infusing his skin with a silvery glow. His almond-shaped hazel eyes were ringed with thick, dark lashes and seemed to glitter against his gleaming skin. He wore tight black jeans, an unzipped grey hoodie layered over a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a band that Harry was sure he'd heard Hermione gush over, and expensive-looking trainers, though he managed to look as elegant in his casual clothing as Vaughn looked dangerous in his.

            "I wasn't seducing him, Remy," Vaughn said, "but I'd be happy to try. C'mere, Harry. Let me get a good look at you."

            Harry found himself pulled further into the room and made to stand in front of Vaughn.                  

            “Hmm, no marks,” Vaughn said, examining both sides of Harry's neck, then picking up both of Harry's hands and examining his fingers and his palms, “and no rings or tattoos. That rules out both Shadowclaw and Evernight rituals. Maybe they aren't as mated as they tell everyone they are.”

            Harry's eyes widened in alarm. Until now everyone had accepted Severus and Harry as mates without question, so to have that relationship challenged by another Mori made him uneasy. 

            “Don't take it to heart, Harry,” Remy said as he slid his arm around Harry's shoulders and led him away from Vaughn. “Two Mori can be considered mates long before they undergo any formal mating ritual, as Vaughn well knows. He just wants to flirt with you without feeling guilty about it.”

            “If you know that I want to flirt with him, why are you taking him away?”

            Remy ignored Vaughn and steered Harry over to a sofa, helping him settle comfortably into the soft cushions before sitting beside him.

            "My mate is a terrible flirt," he said apologetically, "but he's completely harmless."

            "He reminds me of Julian," Harry said with a grin, already feeling close to Remy. He loved how easy it could be to make friends with other Mori. At this rate, they would establish a solid bond by the end of the night.

            "Exactly! Most of the morions in that family can't help themselves from pouring on the charm with every pretty face they see. Luckily, I don't have a jealous bone in my body."

            "You don't get jealous, but I _do_ ," Vaughn said crossly as he gestured for the two of them to sit farther apart.

            "Shadowclaws," Remy said with a roll of his eyes as he scooted over an inch.

            "I know!" Harry clutched at Remy's arm as a rush of comeraderie overcame him, overjoyed to have found someone to commiserate with over his mate's possessive instincts, but he quickly let go of Remy when Vaughn made a huffing noise. "Severus is just as bad, though sometimes ..." He bit his lip, a bit embarrassed to go on.

            "... sometimes you enjoy it?" Remy finished for him with a wicked little laugh.

            Harry blushed and nodded.

            Vaughn groaned low in his throat, both at his mate's laugh and the kinky turn the conversation had taken. "You two are killing me."

            "You'll survive," Remy said without pity before he turned back to Harry, launching into formal introductions even though they weren't necessary at this point. "I'm Remy, by the way. You've met Vaughn, and we also brought our two children with us tonight: our daughter, Leonie, and our son, Brennan."

            "I saw them when I peeked into Dorian's room. Brennan's familiar is raven, isn't it?"

            Vaughn raised a brow. "You could tell?"

            "Yes, though I'm not sure how. Some sort of kindred spirits connection?"

            "More likely it's that brilliant Evernight mind of yours," Remy said, "but yes, Brennan's familiar is the raven, and Leonie's familiar is a lioness, like her grandmother."

            "I keep hoping that's all she's inherited from my mother," Vaughn said with a grimace, "because the alternative is terrifying."

            Harry leaned forward, eager to hear more about his new in-laws. "Tell me about the rest of Julian's family. Will they all be coming tonight?"

            "I think they'll all be popping in at some point," Remy said, glancing at Vaughn who confirmed his words with a sharp nod. "His parents are Carak and Ravenne. Carak is a Shadowclaw who can out-flirt all his sons, and Ravenne is a Warsong who isn't afraid to put Carak in his place when he steps out of line, which happens more often than not. Though I think he likes being under her thumb, so ..."

            " _Likes_ it? He _lives_ for it," Vaughn said as he poured himself a drink.

            “There are five sons, six now including Severus. Caelen is the eldest. He's mated to a Blackwing named Rowan.”

            “Not someone you want to cross,” Vaughn added with a grimace.

            “She's perfectly civil towards those who can behave themselves,” Remy said with a pointed look at his mate before turning back to Harry and continuing down the list of Julian's brothers. “After Caelen, there's Bram, the only Warsong, and his mate, Maia, a Duskwise. Taren is the middle child, and he's mated to Linnet, a Darkshine. You've met Vaughn and me – I'm a Darkshine too, if the moon-glow didn't give it away – and of course there's Julian –”

            “-- who is mated to a puppy named Sirius, according to Dorian --”

            “-- and now Severus has joined the pack as the youngest, may the gods have mercy on his soul.”

            “I can't imagine Severus asking anyone for mercy,” Vaughn said, bringing his glass to his lips, but then he paused and glanced at Harry, a mischievous grin forming, “unless Harry has a few stories he can tell us.”

            Harry blushed, so flustered by the insinuation that he spoke without thinking, “No, I'm usually the one who – ”

            He stopped himself just in time, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as Vaughn's husky laughter filled the room.

            [Harry? What's wrong?] Severus's voice broke into Harry's thoughts, that rich baritone only adding fuel to the fire of Harry's imagination, and he quickly reinforced his barriers so none of those memories would be broadcast to the other two morions in the room with him.

            "Look at that face! He's so adorable when he blushes," Remy gushed, throwing his arms around Harry and bringing him in for a cuddle. "Never change, Harry."

            "Remy!" Vaughn shot his mate a wounded frown.

            "Oops!" Remy gave Harry one last, quick squeeze before he moved away again, his hands held high in the air to show his mate that he had removed himself entirely from Harry's body. "Sorry, _a'maelamin._ I got carried away."

            "I forgive you," Vaughn said stiffly, struggling to keep the pout off his lips, "but only because you acted so cute when you hugged him."

            Remy dropped his hands back into his lap just as Severus stalked into the room.

            "Are you harassing my mate, Vaughn?"

            Vaughn dismissed his new brother's accusation with a fiendish grin, childishly pointing his finger at his mate. "It wasn't me, it was Remy."

            "Tattletale," Remy muttered. He looked calmly at Severus, showing no signs of remorse for his so-called 'harassment' of Harry. "I cuddled him and called him adorable. Pistols at dawn?"

            Severus's dark eyes flashed with amusement, but he pretended to be considering Remy's confession gravely as he sat on the other side of Harry, pulling him so close against his body that Harry worried he was going to end up in Severus's lap. Finally, he gave a shrug of his shoulders and said, "If it was only Remy, that's fine."

            "Don't encourage him," Vaughn growled before he knocked back the rest of his drink, his gray eyes darkening when Remy took advantage of a shared look between Severus and Harry to stick his tongue out at his mate without them seeing. The sudden flare of heat in Vaughn's gaze promised that he'd greatly enjoy doling out some 'punishment' to his mate even if Severus had forgiven him.

            Harry turned back just in time to see Remy's cheeks flood with colour, but he didn't have a chance to ask what had happened before the shadows in the room parted and two new guests joined the party.

            " _Quel undome_." The morwen who spoke the Elvish greeting was tall and statuesque, a vision of golds and browns, from the silken dark brown of her hair to the bronzed glow of her skin, the colour of her eyes shifting between warm honey and molten gold. Harry immediately recognized her as Julian's mother, the face and the eyes too similar to Julian's to ignore, but where Julian's mouth and eyes would be softened by a cheeky grin, Ravenne wore a serious expression, her gaze marked by strength and intelligence but lacking Julian's playful nature. She had a fierce energy that made itself known in every piercing glance and decisive gesture, almost as intimidating as Rauko in how her presence could fill a room.

            Harry immediately sat up straighter in his seat. " _Q-quel undome_."

            "Forgive our early arrival, _Taren en amin_ ," the morion with her said. He and Vaughn might have been mistaken for twins, though Carak's features were more rugged than those of his son, his hair a darker brown. "Ravenne has been eagerly looking forward to this night, and patience has never been one of her virtues."

            Carak tapped his mate playfully on the nose when she whipped her head around to protest his disparaging remark. "You know it's true, _melamin_."

            Harry was surprised Carak still had his finger given the fiery glare Ravenne sent his way, but just as quickly she smoothed over her expression. "No mother would have enough patience to wait under these circumstances. I am here to see my new son, and to welcome his mate and Julian's mate into our family. Can I be blamed for wishing to embrace them all as soon as possible?"

            Harry's heart leapt at Ravenne's mention of 'Julian's mate' as if Sirius's place in the family was a given fact that no one would be disputing. He hoped his intuition that Ravenne spoke sincerely would prove true.

            "Julian and Sirius are still upstairs," Severus said. "Shall I bring them down, _atara_?"

            Ravenne crossed over to Severus and stroked his cheek, smiling when he instinctively leaned into the touch. "My youngest son is fast proving to be the most reliable. See how he jumps at the chance to be of use to me?"

            "Your youngest hasn't had to live with you for that long," Vaughn said, earning his mother's sharp disapproval. Harry shivered and dearly hoped he would never be on the receiving end of one of Ravenne’s patent glares.

            "Stay here, Severus," she said, not bothering to reply to Vaughn's taunt. "Carak and I will fetch Julian and Sirius ourselves. I wish to see more of the house my children are staying in."

            She swept out of the room without another word, Carak trailing off behind her at his own pace. Once they were gone, Harry finally relaxed his posture and sank back into the cushions.

            "Wow," he said.

            "She's an experience all her own," Vaughn conceded with a laugh, "and that was her being _pleasant_."

            "She's not that bad," Remy said in an attempt to be diplomatic.

            "I think she's absolutely perfect," Severus said, which surprised everyone but Harry. He could see how Ravenne's serious nature and take-no-prisoners attitude would appeal to his mate, and he'd noticed just how pleased Severus had been to receive Ravenne's praise. The only thing that surprised him was seeing Severus in the role of affectionate son, and that Ravenne had inspired those feelings in Severus spoke more to Harry of her exceptional nature than anything else.

            "Perfect might be overstating it, but she's undeniably one of the strongest Mori I know," Remy said. "She had a rowdy brood of troublesome sons to raise. How could she be otherwise?"

            "We have a saying in our family: _i'ravenne pelekta dina_.” Vaughn saw Harry's confusion and quickly translated the Elvish, " _The lioness stalks silently_. You never know when she's going to pounce, so it's best to always be on your toes around her. My brothers and I learned at an early age that whatever trouble we wanted to get into had better be worth the consequences once our mother caught us, and she _always_ caught us. Turns out that no amount of trouble was worth her wrath."

            "She's easier to please than you might think," Remy told Harry, trying to provide balance to the picture Vaughn was painting with his words. "She's a tough leader with a penchant for showing her enemies no mercy, but she does love her family. As long as you're honest and dependable and, above all, _loyal_ , you'll stay on her good side."

            _She sounds a little like a Hufflepuff,_ Harry thought.

            Severus must have overheard him because he immediately broke into Harry's mind with an indignant denial. [A _Hufflepuff_? She'd terrify the Hufflepuffs.]

            [Well, then ... a cross between a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor?]

            [Are you trying to make me angry?] Severus's lips twisted in disgust that Harry would even mention Gryffindor in relation to his adopted mother. The Hufflepuff comparison had been bad enough, but this!

            [Her familiar is a lioness. Gryffins are part lion. It isn't that much of a stretch, Severus.]

            "Should we leave the room so you two can have it out?" Vaughn asked with a mischievous grin. "Or do you like an audience for your fights? Tell us what it's about so Remy and I can pick sides."

            Harry and Severus turned back to their guests with embarrassment. Their little squabble had been silent, but apparently their faces had shown their disagreement all the same.

            "Let me save us all a lot of trouble and predict how it will turn out," Remy said dryly. "I'll pick Harry's side because we're both at the mercy of Shadowclaw mates and it's imperative that we stick together, and you'll pick Severus's side because you like to be contrary, so you'll pick the opposite of whatever I pick."

            Vaughn considered this scenario carefully, then nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. Total stalemate."

            "Glad we took the shortcut on that one." Remy stood up and gestured for Harry to come with him. He led him over to the window seat where he'd been sitting when Harry came in and retrieved a thin sketchbook he'd left there.

            “I brought these as part of my Solstice gift to you,” Remy said, handing the sketchbook to Harry. “I spoke with as many witnesses as possible, and I think I managed to capture the faces of all the attackers who were present at the clinic.”

            Harry took the sketchbook and flipped through it, his stomach turning when he saw the face of the Death Eater who'd almost captured him. Severus had assured him that the man was dead, but if he'd had any doubts they were put to rest by Remy's sparse notes at the bottom of the page: _Wizard, Death Eater, Name Unknown, Deceased._ He closed the book and smiled weakly at Remy. "This is great. Thank you."

            "I wanted to do something to help," Remy said with a shrug, his eyes brightening as he added, "My second gift is better, or at least I hope you'll think it is."

            Harry grinned at the infectious excitement in Remy's expression. "What is it?"

            "I'll tell you all about it later," Remy promised. "It's not something I could wrap up or tie a bow on."

            "You do realize that now I'm going to be dying of curiosity until you tell me." Harry had only just gotten over being denied the entire Lisette/Rauko/Vala saga, and now Remy was dangling yet another mystery in front of him that couldn't be solved right away. He tucked the sketchbook under his arm and grabbed at Remy's hands, tugging him forward into a conspiratorial huddle, unaware that they'd just caught the undivided attention of their two Shadowclaw mates. "Give me a hint, just a teeny tiny clue ... _please_?"

            "Begging won't get you anywhere with me," Remy teased him, but then the two were being pulled apart and into the arms of their respective mates.

            "What's this about begging?" Severus asked coldly at the same time that Vaughn barked out, "Quit being so touchy-feely with each other!"

            Remy and Harry shared a look, a very resigned, [ _Shadowclaws_ ,] passing between them before they burst into laughter.

            [We're going to have to turn casual hugs into covert operations with these two around,] Remy said to Harry only. To Severus and Vaughn, he explained, "I was giving Harry one of his Solstice gifts."

            Harry wriggled out of Severus's embrace so he could show him the sketchbook, and Severus, to his credit, immediately brushed off his possessive instincts and flipped through the sketches with growing interest. No longer bothered by the question of who was begging for what, he looked up at Remy, firmly back in 'research mode'.

            "If I needed some sketches done of ... well, the details aren't important right now, but would you be willing to be my sketch artist? In better times, I would rely on Aiya, but since she's gone ..."

            "I'd be happy to help," Remy said, grimacing as Vaughn's arms tightened around him, "if you don't mind Vaughn tagging along."

            Vaughn stiffened, as if he expected Severus to say no. "Who cares if he minds? I'm the older brother, remember?"

            Severus dismissed the question of his brother's presence with a wave of his hand. "He might as well be there too. Julian will be there out of necessity, and I'm just as capable of tuning out two annoying _older brothers_ as I am of tuning out one."

            "Did you hear that? He wants me there." Vaughn loosened his embrace on Remy with a happy grin. Harry wasn't sure if Vaughn was choosing to ignore being called 'annoying' or if he just practiced a special brand of selective hearing when interacting with his new brother. In any case, his positive spin on Severus's indifference had lightened his mood and he was all smiles again. "Now, shouldn't we decorate for this party? If Sirius is going to be with us, we'll need light, won't we? Wouldn't want him stumbling around in the dark ..."

            Harry frowned. This was a dilemma that had caused him some discomfort in the days leading up to the party. "I've been trying to decide if we should use candles or spells, but then this one starts throwing a fuss," he patted his rounded stomach with a rueful smile, "at the mere mention of light. What do you think we should do?"

            "Leave it to us," Remy said as he steered Harry back to the sofa. "You relax while we get everything ready."

 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *

 

 

            _Family can be useful_ , Severus thought to himself.

            Remy was setting out small glass lanterns that cast silvery moonglow over the room, effectively illuminating the space without introducing any light source that might harm Harry or the baby, and Vaughn was rearranging tables and chairs and setting out drinks and refreshments, acting more like the party's caterer than an invited guest. The two were doing more to prepare for the evening's gathering than Severus had even planned on, and he was glad to let them take over and free him of having to tend to social niceties. He had neither the talent nor the motivation to entertain people, even if they were family. He'd leave the role of social butterfly to Harry.

            _Not that he's in any condition to flutter around tonight._ Severus watched with deep satisfaction as Harry dozed on the sofa, oblivious to the flurry of activity going on around him. He'd spent too many years on the side-lines of Harry's life watching helplessly as he dived headfirst into countless dangerous situations, so it was gratifying to finally have his Harry right where he belonged, kept close at Severus's side, never farther than a room or two away. Dumbledore might call it selfish, this decision to hide Harrry away while a war raged on around them, but Severus didn't care. He wanted to stretch these quiet moments for as long as he could.

            A trio of giggling Mori fledglings raced into the room, chasing each other around the furniture as they disrupted the peaceful environment and startled Harry out of his nap. Severus bit down on the urge to swoop in and demand order from the children as he'd done numerous times at Hogwarts, fighting every natural instinct he had in regards to rambunctious children.

            He might have buckled to old habits if Ravenne hadn't walked into the room and taken the role of disciplinarian away from him.

            "Leonie. Brennan." She only spoke their names, but the two older fledglings froze in place, with Leonie catching Dorian in her arms to prevent him from continuing on his own and getting into trouble. Ravenne rewarded her grandchildren's quick compliance with a warm smile and a wrapped package she'd been hiding behind her back. "Shall we give your cousin his Solstice gift?"

            Dorian's eyes went wide and he happily allowed his cousins to shepherd him over to the window seat so he could rip into the brightly-coloured paper, revealing a beautifully illustrated storybook.

            [Sev'rus, look!] Dorian held up the storybook with unbridled glee, no doubt envisioning many evenings of Severus reading to him before bedtime.

            [What a wonderful present,] he said, proud as ever that Dorian shared his love of books. [Make sure to say thank you.]

            Dorian erupted into a litany of thank yous to anyone who would listen, even running up to Sirius as he entered the room and throwing his arms around the legs of his 'puppy'. "Thank you! Thank you!"

            "Umm, you're welcome?" Sirius scooped Dorian up into his arms for a hug then sent him on his way back to Leonie and Brennan. Julian and Carak weren't far behind, the latter chattering on jovially while the former nodded at intervals and threw meaningful glances at his mate, meaning all the guests that had arrived so far were now gathered in one room at last. Sirius made a beeline for Harry, much as Severus had predicted, and Julian took advantage of seeing his mate in safe company to disentangle himself from his father, foist Carak back on Ravenne, and make his way across the room to Severus.

            Julian pushed his way into Severus’s mind so they could speak privately. [I didn't have time to tell you before, but I got what you wanted.]

            He placed two identical carved stone rings on Severus's palm.

            [Black jasper,] Julian pointed out the main component of the rings, then ran his finger around the pale, iridescent stone inlay, [and moonstone.]

            They were simple rings, Severus saw with relief, not the ostentatious monstrosities that he'd worried Julian would bring him. Dark and light contrasted beautifully in the pair, just as they did in his mate ... and perhaps that was how Harry himself perceived Severus, though Severus had long ago accepted the fact that if a ring were to reflect his true nature, it would be made entirely of the cold, black jasper without a trace of glowing moonstone to lighten it.

            [Don't ask me where I got them from because you won't like the answer.]

            [I wasn't going to – ]

            [Rauko,] Julian snapped, as if angry with himself for being unable to keep the secret, though Severus would have reasonably pointed out that keeping secrets had never been Julian's forte. [I got them from Rauko, okay? But don't tell him I told you. I think he was worried that you wouldn't take them if you knew.]

            Well, Severus wasn't exactly overjoyed that once again his father-in-law had meddled, but the rings were exactly what he knew Harry would like. He'd allow Rauko's interference if it meant Harry would be happy.

            [They're old -- he said they were carved centuries ago -- and they have a very special feature that I think you and Harry will appreciate.]

            Julian picked up one of the rings and felt along the inside of the band. [There. Feel that mark?]

            Severus rubbed his finger over the spot Julian indicated and felt where something had been etched into the stone. [What is it? A name?] He would have to rethink the rings if that were the case. Whoever had worn these rings in the past, he wanted them to belong only to Harry and himself now.

            [It's a rune - the Elvish rune for _maranwe_. It's like they were meant to be yours and Harry's, don't you think?]

            A profound sense of rightness followed Julian's revelation, and Severus closed his hands over the rings. 

            [Yes,] he said, his dark eyes looking past Julian's shoulder to where Harry was welcoming Dorian into his arms for a hug, [everything's coming together perfectly.]

 

 

*     *     *     *     *     *

 

 

            Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet. He couldn't remain on the sofa for one more minute or he'd fall asleep. He'd already had a catnap while Vaughn and Remy decorated, and he'd remained in a fog while a nervous Sirius made small talk with him. His godfather had glued himself to Harry's side for as long as he could, but Carak and Ravenne had captured him during a lull in Sirius's one-sided conversation with Harry and now all the adults were talking in a group while the children played together nearby.

            _So far, so good_ , Harry thought, pleased at how well things were going. No one had treated Sirius as an outsider or an enemy, Harry had developed bonds with his new in-laws and what promised to be a close friendship with Remy, and Dorian was overjoyed to have his older cousins doting on him. Dorian's electrified response to Leonie and Brennan had tugged at Harry's heart more than once. There were no children at Grimmauld Place to serve as Dorian's playmates, and the same would be true once they moved to a new safehouse. Watching the three cousins giggle and share secrets tonight had forced Harry to reconsider his decision to take Dorian with them into hiding, away from his family and the company of other children.

            “Sit by me, Dorian,” Leonie said as she grabbed his hand to lead him over to the sofa.

            “No, he's going to sit by me.” Brennan caught Dorian's other hand and pulled him back, glaring at his sister over the younger boy's head.

            “What a pity that Dorian doesn't have two sides to his body which would make this argument completely pointless,” Remy said, breaking away from the adult group to head off his children's argument.

            “But I do have two sides!” Dorian said, waving both hands in front of Remy's face.

            “Of course you do, poppet.”

            “He was just being sarcastic,” Brennan said with a sigh. “That's how he talks to _atar_ when he thinks _atar_ is being silly.”

            “In other words, all the time,” Julian said with a snort, not quite fast enough to avoid getting punched in the arm by his brother. He laughed as he rubbed the place where Vaughn had hit him. “Ooo, did I strike a nerve? Heard that tone more than a few times in the bedroom, eh?”

            "Big talk from the newlywed," Vaughn grumbled. He turned beseeching eyes on Sirius. "He's just as irritating as I am, right?"

            "Oh yes, maybe even more so," Sirius replied soothingly, not fazed at all when Julian glared at him for taking Vaughn's side. "What? I want your family to like me."

            "You just need _me_ to like you."

            "I thought you already did."

            Julian struggled to keep the frown plastered on his face, but a syrupy-sweet smile won out as he took his mate into his arms. "I do. _More_ than like. So don't worry about anyone else, not even my family."

            "But I do like Sirius," Carak said, volunteering his support with a placid smile.

            "Me too!" Vaughn chimed in. "And I know Taren likes him, and ..."

            Julian cut Vaughn off with a growl. "All of you need to stop liking him so damn much!"

            Harry squinted his eyes as his tired brain tried to understand what was going on. "Julian, that doesn't even make sense. You were so worried that your family wouldn't --"

            "Don't try to apply logic to this," Severus murmured in his ear.

            "Just .. just tolerate him from a distance," Julian instructed his family, his suspicious gaze zeroing in on his father's face, "especially you."

            "Me?" Carak sounded surprised, but the gleam in his eyes belied that claim of innocence.   

            “Don’t let him deceive you,” Ravenne told Sirius with a narrowed glance at her mate. “He may act like a lamb, but he’s a wolf through and through.”

            “Baa?” Carak bleated, adopting a wounded expression as if astounded that Ravenne would doubt his sheepish façade.

            “Keep it up and I’ll put mutton on the menu tonight.”

            Carak’s show of innocence melted into a wolfish grin. “Promise?”

            “Incorrigible,” Ravenne muttered, but her fingertips ghosted over the mating mark on her throat as she looked at Carak, her golden eyes bright with a fierce glow.

            “Like father, like son,” Sirius piped in, giving Julian a similar look.

            “Precisely,” Ravenne said, threading her arm through Sirius’s and gently leading him away from the rest of the group, “which is why we must have a chat, you and I.”

            “Must we?” Sirius squeaked out, looking around for help but finding no one brave enough, or in Severus's case concerned enough, to contradict the matriarch’s decision. He scowled at Julian, and Harry could only imagine the unspoken curses that accompanied that glare. He felt bad for abandoning his godfather to Ravenne’s interrogation, but strangely he didn’t think her intentions were bad. In fact …

            “She really likes him,” Julian said with wonder, voicing the very conclusion that had crossed Harry’s mind. “I’ve never seen her be so … _friendly_.”

            “It’s creepy,” Vaughn said with a shudder.

            Carak only smiled and wandered over to where the children were crowded around Dorian’s storybook, leaving the five Mori to their discussion. Julian, in particular, couldn’t let go of his suspicions regarding his mother’s reaction to Sirius.

            “It’s not normal for her to be so chatty with a new in-law.”

            Harry nodded. “I know she’s been speaking to Severus since he was turned, but she hasn’t said anything to me until tonight, no mindspeaking or anything.”

            “She didn’t speak to me at all until Leonie was born,” Remy admitted without bitterness.

            “I think she still hasn’t spoken more than a few words to Rowan too,” Vaughn said, “though that might be because Rowan prefers to speak with her fists.”

            “That’s how she prefers to speak to _you_ ,” Remy corrected him.

            “Let’s be honest,” Julian said. “Conversing with Vaughn is _always_ best done with your fists, with a few swift kicks for punctuation.”

            Vaughn heaved a dejected sigh, but the laughter in his eyes proved that he wasn’t really troubled by the jokes at his expense. “You’re all just lucky that I’m a masochist, or I’d never speak to any of you again.”

            “I don’t see how that makes us lucky,” Julian said.

            Vaughn favoured him with a condescending smile and patted his head. “Think really hard about it for a week and you might just figure it out, _ai’toror_.”

            Julian scoffed and knocked his hand away, but even the comforting familiarity of bickering with his brother couldn’t fully distract him from the sight of his mother and his mate in deep conversation on the other side of the room. The others exchanged knowing looks, and Remy took the initiative to provide a diversion.

            “Hey, aren’t we forgetting about all those wonderful Solstice traditions we’re supposed to be keeping? We haven’t even started predictions yet. We’ve got three Mori with raven familiars in this house – shouldn’t one of them be our Seer for the evening?" 

            Brennan leapt up from the floor, jumping up and down with both hands raised in the air. “Let me, Dad! Let me!”

            “Not so fast, Nostradamus.” Vaughn swung his son up into his arms. “You have to defer to your elders, remember? Rauko and Harry are both older than you, so first we have to ask if they want to be Seer.”

            “Well, Rauko’s out of commission,” Harry said, “and I wouldn’t have a clue what to do. It’s fine with me if Brennan does … whatever the Seer does on Solstice.”

            “The winter solstice is when Mori magic is at its peak,” Remy explained. “Evernights and other seers are able to make their most accurate predictions tonight. A lot of Duskwise healers spend the Solstice making potions and salves because they’ll be more potent than if they made them any other time of the year.”

            “And all the Silvertongues get laid,” Vaughn chipped in, earning himself an elbow in the side from his mate. “Well, it’s not fair, is it? Those sweet talkers already have a leg up on the rest of us every other day of the year, but there’s no way to compete with a Silvertongue on Solstice night.”

            Julian laughed. “How can you still be bitter? You’ve had a sure thing with Remy for years …”

            “Anyone who thinks Remy is a ‘sure thing’ is delusional.”

            “Now who’s the sweet talker?” Remy said with a laugh. He took Brennan from Vaughn’s arms and set him down, straightening the collar of his shirt and smoothing his hair into place. “Go over to the window seat and clear your mind, and we’ll send you your first victim when you’re ready.”

            As Brennan scampered off happily to fulfil his role as Seer, Harry felt a surge of magic and exhaustion roll through him, making his knees wobble. Severus caught his arm to steady him, but Harry quickly brushed him off. For some reason, Severus touching him only made the feeling worse.

            “I hate to break with tradition, but I think I’m going to have to say goodnight,” he said, tacking on what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he was bombarded by feelings of concern and the protective frown of his mate. “My snores probably wouldn’t add much to the conversation anyway.”

            He doled out hugs and parting words to all, saving his cuddles for Dorian and a soft, tender kiss for Severus, then ascended the stairs to the bedroom, his body growing heavier with each step. He didn’t even bother to take off his clothes once he’d made it into the room, simply curling up under the blanket fully dressed as he drifted off towards sleep.

            _It would be better to stay awake, Harry,_ Vala whispered to him, but his foggy brain was unable to grasp the meaning of his words. Ignorant of the spirit’s warning, Harry slept …

            … and in time, he dreamed.

           

 

 

 

 

Glossary

 

 ** _Lle naa telmevanima_** – You are a beautiful blanket

 ** _Telmeamin nowa lle naa vanima_** – My blanket thinks you are beautiful

 ** _Diola lle ten i’telmevanima_** – Thank you for the beautiful blanket

 ** _I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin I'ithil!_** – The bones of our foes will gleam under the moon!

 ** _Taren en amin_** – my Prince

 ** _i'ravenne pelekta dina_** – the lioness stalks silently

 ** _melamin_** – my love

 ** _atar_** – father

 ** _atara_** – mother

 ** _a'maelamin_** – my beloved

 ** _ai’toror_** – little brother


End file.
